


Liberator

by ramenbowie



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Alcohol, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Illustrated, M/M, Smoking, Suicide, im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-20 03:23:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10653870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramenbowie/pseuds/ramenbowie
Summary: Taking up stripping in Inkopolis is a lush alternative, but it takes more than meets the eye. A mix of too many things at once will turn sour. Rodi Isandro should've known that.





	1. Chapter 1

THE FIRST FIVE DAYS

* * *

 

 

/1/

 

The red high heels clacked on the tile floor, and stopped with a soft skid.

“Nice show out there."  
But it wasn't the first time he heard it from a manager.

The pale, yellow-inked man with the weird sunglasses sat over a worn office chair, with his branchy legs crossed, and he looked very pleased. Rodi was a tad put off by the office. It was murky, and the smell of mould was unpleasantly complementing the heavy musk perfume the manager wore. As Rodi shifted his look at him, he pondered on why and how the room was so unkempt, compared to the marble stage and pristine gold-covered bar counter on the other side of the wall. The nightclub was both posh and dubious, which was not surprising, but the traits somehow stood out more in this place than in the ones he tried out before.

Minutes ago, as he wrapped his body along the pole, Rodi silently judged the crowd that stared wide-eyed and fantasized about him. You could get a very easy idea of what kind of place it was from the clientele. A mix of anything for anyone: black suit gamblers, office employees, foreign people, gold chain and diamond watch bearers, men with slick hairstyles, smoking fat cigars. Poker enthusiasts, frat boys in brand name tracksuits with golden credit cards, who blew their parents' cash on cocktails and the girls in there, both workers and visitors. Loud laughers, secretive whisperers. It was a panorama of a society that had one thing in common: it stank of money.

Isandro went through a search for a good place to work at since the start of the week. Some nightclubs only offered a place with a throughout audition beforehand, which was too much of a hassle for the 19 year old. It was easier to take the club for a test run, to get the real feeling of it. Others just didn't call back, or were already full. He stood in front of this guy, expecting even a dismissing. He’s not the right height, not the right face, and male strippers are a niche, after all.

"Can you come tomorrow too? Maybe settle here? You're a real sweetie." The man tilted his head slightly, as if to catch another angle of Isandro's body, exposed into a tight, matte black bodysuit, which dully glowed in the weak neons.

It wasn't the last club he wanted to see, though. He had one more to check out, which looked very promising. There was always a chance for one to offer a better paycheck for the hours spent in heels. It’s an old and tired saying, dating back centuries, when humans were still around, but it remained true: time meant money. It couldn't be wasted.

Especially not now. Bills were due. Hospital bills, motor repairs, rent, it all piled up while he was happily dazed by drinks paid by randoms, roaming around Inkopolis' clubs.

"We'll see about that." The pomegranate inkling mimicked the head tilt in the opposite direction.  
A surprised hum rose from the other. "What doesn't convince you?"  
"It's not that it doesn't convince me. I like to really know what I'm getting into, you see?”  
"Fair enough!"

The man turned around his patchy chair with a push of his foot, to bring a metallic suitcase from behind. Rodi's relaxed expression faded as the moment turned into a cliché scene: the suitcase opened, showing off uncountable piles of banknotes.

"I think this says something about us! You can get this kind of shit in minutes! And if not, I’ll give a helping hand out of this lot."

The sight made Rodi feel belittled. He didn't expect a dude with goofy glasses and a neon animal print shirt to casually show off a stash of millions. Considering that single suitcase, it was clear that the nightclub had its fair share of success. It took a minute for Rodi's thoughts to come back, a time in which the manager eagerly waited for his approval.

"We'll see about that... tomorrow."  
"My name's Tiede, call me Marzi. You'll love it here, I'll make it great for you." He brought forward a open hand.

Rodi finished the handshake neither firmly or fleetingly, but rather guided by instinct.

* * *

 

 

/2/

 

An instinct that drove him to come again the next day. To the left of the entrance hung a small sign, reading "Amygdala nightclub", a place hidden between contorted, narrow streets, at the basement of an old-style building in the near centre of Inkopolis. Though, the main entrance was reserved for the clients. He went through a staff door, blended in between the brick walls.

Someone in there had a great love for feather boas, from the number of them thrown around the floor and curled up in multiple wall corners. Foundation powder and vapours of perfume were floating in the changing room's stale air. Rodi took a final look in the mirror, doing twirls on the tips of his toes as practice before the show. He slipped into the heels that were lying besides him, and hurriedly headed towards the curtain separating the room from the hallway. Just as he pulled the satin curtain away, on the other side waited Marzi, his square nose an inch away from Rodi.

He initially flinched. "Uh, hi."  
"Change of plans, you're dancing with one of my girls."

Rodi took some steps back to let Marzi in, unable to process the words, due to his quick speech pattern.

And in walked a tall figure, which dragged from her neck those aforementioned feathery strings. Her mascara defined her bottom lashes in a manner to envy. Limbs were slender, spiky at joints, spaced out and long, and both her nails and her shoes were onyx stilettos. Her orange hair was definitely odd, she wasn't entirely an inkling, but rather a crustacean hybrid, by the two large pincers that stood at the tips of her locks. Through all the sharp corners her figure displayed, there was a soft glow around her round eyes and puffy lips, accentuated by the dull skin tone, which further diffused her unique image.

"This is Dana! Ain't she a beauty!" said Marzi.

Dana gave a blank look towards Tiede, before shifting it to Rodi.  
"New guy? I thought I'd work with Silviana tonight."  
"Let's give him a chance, I'm curious how you two will look out there. Chemistry... all that shit."

Rodi turned more frowny than usual from their short exchange. Who were they to think of him as an amateur, unable to make a name on his own? ...Amateur, sure. Two weeks ago all he did was to show off to acquaintances by pretending to know how to pole dance, but things changed, right? He was getting an actual career out of it. While a solo performance would have been better for a second attempt at working at the nightclub, he went with Marzi's plans.

"Liberator. Nice to work with you." He forced himself to say it with the same indifference Dana displayed.  
"Come on, you two. Warm up and in ten minutes I want you up there and going." Tiede left the room whilst giving the orders.

The two turned their sights from the curtain to themselves. Rodi had some questions.

"Do we each have to do our thing there, or...?"  
"No. We interact. You didn't do this before, did you?"  
He shook his head. Knew exactly what she meant.  
"Gotta say it, I'm not into chicks."  
"Neither am I into guys." Dana's voice was flatter, unwavered, next to Rodi's more nasal one. "But do I complain? See, you don't have to be into it to make it work, just fake it and... whatever. You'll see how it goes. Get inventive."

The tiny speaker hung on the wall announced the next ones to be on stage.  
"It's a duet tonight! We have our beloved Dana to keep us company! And... and Liber-...? Liberator!"  
Rodi couldn't wait for the outsider feeling to fade in a few days.

The curtains for the catwalk rolled open. The two walked up their spots silently, each looking straight forward at the eager crowd. They placed their hands on the cold metal poles simultaneously, and waited for a starting signal. The music started playing, and, not knowing what to do, Rodi stalled time by walking around in circles, in a seemingly confident, inciting step, stopping to pose and observe Dana's moves. Though, neither did she do anything noticeable.

The interaction between the two was awkward from the start, and the feeling lingered on during their performance. Rodi was getting impatient and kinda dizzy from going in circles, so he started taking sure strides in Dana's direction, with no afterthoughts. Dana picked up his approaching and mirrored the move. She took off the dragged-along feather boa and put it to use, lassoing it around the Liberator, and pulling him closer. Whistles and woos rose from the spectators.

The move brought Rodi's quick thinking to light. He further twists the situation, literally, by twisting his body while grabbing the sturdy-thin figure of his dance partner with his strong arms, switching the sides with her. Dana let her spine arch backwards, alongside Liberator's palm, as he nested his nose in the crook of her neck. Their heels skid under them, leaving the two slowly descending towards the floor, until they lay one over the other.

The improvised, snappy choreography was sensual, for sure, and thankfully the crowd didn't notice the "now whats" desperately being whispered by Rodi.

"Put those hips to use, man. Pretend to kiss, do some crazy shit."

Rodi took her advice, though he moved stiffer on her than usual. Maybe it was the intimidation, or the fear of messing up his first real performance. This wasn’t a guests’ night anymore.

"Don't bore them. Know how to front flip in heels?"  
It would've seemed as a joke if Dana wasn't a serious-toned person.  
"Are you fucking kidding me?"  
"Do it. You'll get to the pole and keep the action from there going."

He cut his breath short and briefly looked above Dana's head. Indeed, the pole was a flip away, and from there he could've latched to it and spun around, but the flip was a risky move. Especially with those huge heels on. He gave up on them, with a fling of his legs. The shoes flew off to god knows where, Rodi just hoped he didn't hit someone with them. He planted his palms firmly on the floor and concentrated all of his strength on the tip of his toes. He sent his lower body flying over his head, only for his back to flop ungracefully on the floor on the opposite side. Though, he quickly recovered with a roll and jolted upwards, from where he regained the typical flow his moves had before, moves that remind of syrup dripping from the side of a tipped bottle. Rodi looked over his shoulder, to know if anyone noticed his novice mistake. Dana definitely did, she looked back from the floor deadpan, before raising herself in a more controlled way.

Without heels, Isandro was left to do the tippy-toed "stripper strut", as to create an illusion that didn't show him as embarrassingly short as he is. He now had to find a way to gain some height on the pole, without slipping and probably making more of a fool of himself. His legs wouldn't have gripped properly on the metal with the knee socks he had on. He further strips away, taking advantage of the situation, bending over to capture some more hearts. He really could put those legs on show. Flaunted were thighs and calves chiseled from raw muscle and delicately covered with sun kissed skin, shaped into something too irresistible not to be grabbed by someone. He made sure to drag his fingers over the curves as he finished taking off the knee socks, insisting on the hips, left half bare by the bodysuit.

After his short bit of self love, he hooked on the pole with the backside of his knee and let himself limp, put in motion by the impulse. Two or three spins later, he began climbing, keeping the already-settled twirly motion in his ascend. He didn't want to blow it, so he stopped around a modest height, where he remained hooked only into his tightly wrapped legs. He dared let one of them go off the pole, stretching it away as far as he could, following it with an airborne split, keeping the pole between his legs. He had to quickly place his hands back on the metal, to keep balance during the stretch.  
And from that position, he hooked a leg back and let himself twirl downwards, approaching the floor with a steady pace, scissoring his legs out of the metal at the base and flapping them around as he layed back on the stage. A lazy roll on his chest later, he was basking on the cheers and whistles from the audience. He also synced with his coworker, as she just finished her routine as well. Dana signaled him to come for the cherry on the top. Rodi just let her take the lead, she knew better.

To make sure cash would've been thrown over the rail at the end of the show, the makeshift couple started a devilish tease, in which the two pretended to strip each other. Dana picked at the tied ends of Rodi's suit from the back of his head, Rodi in turn picked at Dana's studded bralette. And when they seemed close to undressing the other, letting the garment fall ever so slightly, they subtly tied them back on and repeated the charade, bumping hips and shoulders in time with the beats. Both performers turned from grinning to laughing, and Rodi didn't think before that this child's play for big kids would be so entertaining, combined with how quickly the watchers lost their minds and salary, just to see more. They had a good time and it rained coins, how convenient.

The DJ then faded out the music. Two taps on the mic, and Marzi's voice attracted everyone's attention.

"You sure love them, huh! Two of you will be lucky enough to be up there with them! Start spilling all you've got! Babes, pick your sweethearts!"

Rodi opened his mouth to say something, but Dana approached the edge of the stage, and brought a hand out to pull out a male from the audience. By the look of his face, he was already up the ninth cloud. Rodi couldn't sit there and watch, he had to do the same. He meekishly walked up to the edge and was greeted by hands holding up bills, with some hands generously pushing them into the hem of his bodysuit. He was amazed at the surge of power flowing through his veins, while staring at the faces of the people surrounding him, each hoping to be picked. Closing his eyes and smirking confidently, he bent down and randomly floated a hand above them. Once someone grabbed it, he pulled them on stage and made the first eye contact. He took another man with him, one with a rough face and brushed back tentacles.

It's the first time he's seen something like this happen in a strip club, during a show. The performers in most clubs always kept doing their own thing alone, with no input from the crowd. Doing this other kind of show was more bountiful, the lucky person already stuck a bill of 20, a rarity, down Rodi's chest. Different clubs, different house rules. The Liberator guided him away from the edge and snuck a peek over what Dana's been doing. She planted the guy in the middle and started a striptease in front of him, sometimes getting close enough to feather skin on skin, giving him visible goosebumps. Rodi turned back to his subject just before Dana got topless.

He laid his arms on the other man's shoulders and began swaying, glued on him. He didn't even remotely think something like this could happen, all he prepared was a simple pole dance. He had to adapt. He was now cheekily baring his chest, pulling down the suit to the lower waist level, letting the happy stranger feel it with his palms. He tied it back on after and kneeled before the man, to playfully remove his belt. He pushed him more on the edge of his patience as he unbuttoned the jeans, teased the fly down, though he stopped midway and he slowly raised from the kneeling position, pushing his right hand from the crotch, feeling it shamelessly, all the way up to the man's neck. Rodi positioned it to his liking, making way for his nose to leave a ticklish breath above the collarbones. Afterwards, he tilted the stranger's head to face him straight on, he took a satisfying look at the dazed figure, puckered up for an air kiss and then walked backwards a few steps, with the same sway he had before.

But all good things come to an end. The spotlight dimmed, and the two instantly split from their picks, not caring about how intimate they were. Each collected whatever they left behind on the stage, along with the tips received, and parted the scene, unfazed enough to not look back at the spectators. Rodi felt like being on the top of the world, his sudden cockiness was visible even in the way he walked, with confident, large steps, hips smoothly swinging from side to side. Looking back at it, it went well, pretty great, actually, for a surprise impromptu show. That was an amazing confidence boost for Rodi, disregarding any slips during his performance. It didn't matter.

Back in the changing room, another employee was with her face stuck near one of the mirrors, doing an admirable smoky-eye makeup before her show. Bold red lipstick complemented her dark, flawless skin elegantly, whilst the loop ring earrings and wild indigo tentacles gave her a certain edge. She turned in her chair when she heard the characteristic sound of heels, and softly smiled at Dana, her eyes narrowing and sparkling with kindness.  
Dana smiled back and sat next to her. She took a cotton pad, started removing the foundation off her face, and the two girls begun an effervescent chatter. Rodi couldn't intrude.

In fact, he was more reserved in front of these two ladies. They obviously were well established friends, with their own level of communication, one which he wouldn't reach with them. Thus, he went with his own business and entered a bathroom stall.

Inside, he'd satisfy a nagging curiosity in comfortable privacy. How much did he actually make off that little show? He stuck a hand inside his bodysuit, wherever the fabric was the most stretched. He pulled out a disorganised wad, and a few coins dropped out of the stash. He didn't get to take everything out, and he was already fascinated by how tinkly the coins sounded, how textured the wrinkly banknotes were, and, most importantly, how much of it he got to take. Getting to see the fruits of his labour was mindblowing. He licked a finger and begun going through the papers, relentless and methodical. The verdict: enough to pay off the motorbike's chassis damages. In under an hour! He was almost squealing, ecstatic like a child on Christmas, so he raised a hand to his mouth to bite on. A little voice in the back of his mind told him how it was too easy for it to be real. Not to worry, he brought counterarguments for himself. Dana had also been there, he didn't put on a show all alone. Most of the merit can go to her.  
And, who knows, maybe a fresh face is what Amygdala's clientele needed in there.

He changed from his work clothes and left the club wordlessly.

* * *

 

 

/3/

 

"Try saying "good bye" the next time you leave. Manners, you know!" Dana spat at Rodi as soon as he entered the club.

Before opening hours, the employees, being the two girls he met yesterday, the bartender and another male, were scattered around the empty tables, looking apathetic and distracted by their phones. Only Dana was doing circles in between the tables, checking on everyone, while Marzi lazily hid in the office. Rodi left his backpack in one corner and sat himself down like the others.

"Okay, I think we're all." The indigo-inked lady from yesterday was doing a cutesy braid from her locks out of boredom.

"First thing. Liberator, you're new here, so pay attention. After you finish your routine, be a nice guy and clean after yourself! I'm not touching your goddamn pole after you wipe it with your balls!"  
Dana's vulgarity rose some loud laughs from the crew. Rodi felt his blood creep on his cheeks, but he didn't want to linger on the embarrassment. He nodded and drily swallowed.

"All eyes on me! We have an hour before we open doors. You should all get ready for stage by then. But before that, our boys Valentine and Liberator will move the tables, we're changing the format tonight to make more room, 'cause Silviana whined about bumping into the chairs."  
"Marzi just doesn't know how to arrange furniture. Check this plan I made." The lady's name proved to be Silviana. She brought a scribbled paper with her, a crude top-down representation of the stage and bar areas.  
"Give it to Val, not me. You both put those muscles at work." Dana passed down the paper. "Silvi, you go and help at the bar with cleaning. Ta!"

Isandro followed the guy around. Valentine, a bright pink-inked individual, was the quiet type, direct and quick in his speech, but still giving an heads-in-the-clouds impression. Rodi only contributed with picking up the tables, placing them wherever his coworker's finger pointed, without bothering to even check the sketch once.

Just because Dana was the one with the orders didn't mean that she got to sit back on her ass like Marzi. She brought a stack of papers and notebooks, skimming through the weekly entries for the spendings and earnings of Amygdala. While the performers kept everything they made on stage, they had to pay back a share for working there, which in turn was completed by the entry fee from the clientele. The final budget was partially used on maintenance and stocking up the bar. Careful not to mess up, Dana worked slowly through the numbers, cursing Marzi under her breath for being too incompetent for this.

After his errand, Rodi sneaked up on her back to look at what she did. As his appearance suggested, he was the nosey kind of guy.

"If you're so curious, at least give a helping hand."  
"I'll do one half if you want."  
"Get on it."

Rodi strived to get right with everyone and be a generally pleasant appearance, to keep the waters calm with the more experienced workers. He picked a random sheet from the lot, the report for Friday night, and discovered what a breeze was for Amygdala to make five-figure earnings in one night. He was surprisingly good with numbers, working faster than Dana, though he got another scolding for a bad result.

"Where's the 5 at the end of this?! Do you know what kind of difference only one digit makes!"  
"There, it's fixed now. Happy?" He quickly wrote the missing digit to make her shut up.

Dana forcefully took the paper back and read through it herself, and Rodi crossed his arms in a sign of protest. From behind the curtains, Marzi emerged, looking entertained by their charade, stepping forwards to the stage’s end.  
“Don’t be a killjoy, Dana! The guy’s trying to help. It’s not like we’re gonna feel a missing zero. We already have lots of them! Ha!”  
Dana gave Marzi the most spiteful stare.  
“But, we all know, lots just isn’t enough. ...Goddamn, y’all gather ‘round! The manager’s making an announcement here!” Marzi gestured with wide hand movements to the VIP tables at which the two sat, right in front of the stage.

The crew came closer to them, the only one showing some true interest in what followed being Rodi.  
“Remember when I said that Amygdala’s gonna be a chain? Guess what, I just found a place for sale, and we’re gonna make it ours. I only need to get the contract from the chick who owns it and I’m done! Unbelievable!”  
Surprised expressions were all around the crew’s figures. Excepting Dana.  
“Marzi, learn to run a single fucking business before you open another one.”  
“What, does it seem like it’s not doing well? Open your eyes, man. Just look around, the walls are covered in gold leaf.”  
Dana hit her fist on the table, and jolted off the chair. “As if you made it! You’re not the one shaking his naked ass all night long! It’s us!”  
“Of course! Sure! But if I, and only I,” he empathized on the pronoun, “weren’t the one to start the initiative...! To make an effort to begin this dream! None of you would’ve been here!”  
Dana remained silent, keeping her jaw clenched, and everyone got ready for another wail. Though, nothing came out of her, she sat back down, as if Marzi gave her the final argument. Nevertheless, she remained boiling from anger.

Marzi rearranged his sunglasses, nearly curling his lips in satisfaction, before taking his sight off Dana. “Get all dressed for the shows. ‘Rator, you’re going in first. The rest, settle the order between yourselves.” And he went back into hiding.

From the way most just carried on and went straight to the backstage, Rodi deduced that the two’s bickering was commonplace and not a rarity. Or that nobody wanted to get involved into their seemingly constant problems.

Just before his walk to the changing room, after the team scrambled, he saw Silviana drape her arm on Dana's shoulders, whispering something that calmed her friend. Though, she put her head face down on the table, and Silviana let her hand stroke the brightly orange hair, trying her best to comfort her.

He didn't want to focus too much on the scene, to not ruin his concentration, much needed for what followed.

Stretching his joints and muscles beforehand, Rodi kept his ears peeled by the curtains to hear his name. He pulled at the zippers of the leather coat he put on last-minute, playing the scenario of the start of his routine in his thoughts. He was ready to jump right in and make a stylish debut for the night.

The Liberator felt more sure of himself, more daring than ever. He captivated the crowd with slow steps and a scheming smile. His timing at the start of the song was spot on, managing to express its slick mood in unhurried, languid movements. When the beat suddenly dropped, so did his coat, in a single, sharp move of his arms, letting it lay behind while he kept walking. One stronger step later, he was ready for a short dash towards the pole. With a springy leap, he hooked his arms onto it, for then to twist around freely, letting his legs float, to be admired at anyone's will.

Some of them whistled, shouted in pleasure, catcalled. He was the spotlight, the centerpiece for the 60-or-so attendees. The more desperate ones looked up to him like to a deprived deity, who brought a moment of satisfaction in their sad lives. Looking at the crowd from above-ground, warming the cold pole in between his knees, he made sure each and every one of them was entertained.

“Who’s feelin’ good tonight?”

Rodi savoured the noise he managed the stir. If he’s starting the night, he might as well make it extra as hell.

“Yeah, that’s right. Who cares about a shitty day job? Who cares about that kid who owned your ass in battle? It’s time for you to be the pleased ones!”

He preached, they answered.

And the night went on, with the shows becoming more and more suggestive and revealing. The excitement kicked into the crowd, and the performers’ clothes were flying around in a flurry, together with the bills. Strobe lights, smoke machines, glitter and short lived fame. What more could anyone wish for?

It turned into a beautiful mess of skin and riches, that continued even after the shows, as the strippers took patrons to the hidden corners of the club for the rides of their lives, as long as they were happy to pay up. Rodi’s hit-and-run method worked like a charm, he went up to any pretty face that struck him fancy, he made small talk to see if they were a good target, and answered to any of the more intrusive questions with fluttering eyelashes and charisma, elegantly disguising his sarcasm, detouring the other’s mind to a final goal. He called that goal, in short, “I’ll trick you into thinking you’re having fun, but I’m having the most fun (and your money)”. Solid.

The Liberator got full admiration and longing from one, and then moved to another, repeating the process for hours. And every single time, he couldn’t get enough of their faces and reactions. It was probably his favourite part. As enjoyable as it was to get stripped and dressed back a dozen times, catering to whatever sick fantasy the client had or not, it was more interesting to watch a dozen different people act in a dozen different ways. Some creeped him out, some made him feel warm and valuable, some remained indifferent, but everyone ended with the same treatment. A wink at the end, and he disappeared between the people, leaving them only the memory of his bare body.

By the time the atmosphere settled down, after the madness, Tiede made an appearance and praised his workers for the night. Looking buzzed and ecstatic, he gathered everyone for another announcement.

“Sunday night, y’all, you know what it means. Drinks on me!”

So, it apparently turned into a wild afterparty. It went so fast. Through the blur, you could only distinguish scenes of the nightclub’s crew and invited guests, likely Marzi’s acquaintances, tipping shots over and laughing over anything said, joke or not. The fact that you didn’t know anyone there didn’t matter, everyone was brought together by the common love for luxury, sleaziness and booze. Rodi was already an expert in this kind of deal. He couldn’t remember much, but the taste of lemon slices and salt lingered on his tongue and lips, along with more unidentified tastes he might’ve shared with others.

Though, as the sun was already settled on the sky, as seen from his apartment, Rodi found himself kneeling before his couch, realising he slept with only his head on it. At least, through his tipsiness, he managed to get home safe and sound. Somehow.

* * *

 

 

/4/

 

Fourth day in, the shows were more casual, more like the background noise of the club. Lowkey, but still good enough to pay attention to. Rodi had just returned from his performance, which was more of a modest test of some techniques he observed from the crew's rehearsals. He headed backstage for a water bottle and gave Silviana the cue for going up there. 

He looked into the mirror, freezing on the spot. In a small moment of doubt, he scanned all of his body. It was relatively fit, he was in the prime of his life, the bodysuit and socks were enough to leave to the crowd’s imagination, but not too much to become uninteresting. Even though he presented a simpler persona than his fellow workers, he believed the complexity should stand in the act, and not the outfit. That was what set himself apart from the others, his appearance was pleasing at most, but he knew how to put on a more spectacular show, how to talk sweeter, how to sell himself better. Rodi got on par with the long-time performers in such a short time.

He watched himself snicker at the reflection. He loved himself.

So, he stepped back with confidence into the main area, waiting for the ongoing show to end. He felt like talking to someone he could relate to.

During the intermission, Liberator and Silviana were sitting in one isolated corner of the bar, on tall stools, getting to finally have an one on one discussion, since she was more open to conversation than the other people at Amygdala. Contrary to his belief, the workers weren’t too excited or available to talk to each other outside the backstage.  
After a casual, friendly exchange, Silviana brought up a bit of gossip, and Rodi managed to get an insight view of what went on before his coming.

"Don't mind Dana's... crabbiness. She's good."  
"I know."  
"She wasn't like that before. Or at least when she hired me."  
Rodi was playing with a straw, bending it mindlessly. "How come?"  
"I'm not sure about it, it's what I've caught from rumours, but she had some beef with Marzi, clearly. She was more gentle, very involved with Amygdala since the beginning, but Marzi only saw her as his simple performer. He didn't like Dana managing stuff around. Actually, the club wouldn't even exist without her! She told me she co-founded it! I get why she's so pissed all the time."  
"Do you think she'd pinch my ass for knowing this?"  
They laughed briefly.  
"By the way, who else works around? I've only seen you two doing shows."  
"Oh, we have three more girls and a guy, you've seen Valentine yesterday, but they work for other places or battle, so they don't come around as often. Our staff is still small. Though... one of the girls..." Silviana was losing touch with her concentration.  
"What's up with her?"  
"She argued with Marzi one night and she still hadn't come since then. I think she quit or something."  
"That's too bad."  
"Yeah. How do you feel here?"  
"It's fun, very fun." Rodi brought a fangy smile with his words. "Dunno for how long I'll keep on this, for now it's going well."

Silviana gave a soft nod as someone approached her. She excused herself and intertwined arms with the person, heading towards the lounge area.

Rodi turned his chair to face the bar and observed how well organized it was, with probably over 50 different bottles, sorted on type and brand. The bartender wasn't the interactive type, as Beryl was, though he worked admirably, and his drinks were refined and skillfully done, hence the exclusivist prices he had. Beryl Barresi was someone Rodi looked up to. He found a lot of inspiration and support in her, as she was also one to jump into the nightlife world blindly, working her way up from the bottom to become an amazing bartender. He admired self-taught people, who borrow on skills from others, besides the fact that she was a great conversation partner and Rodi loved being her regular. The two made a deal, one that Rodi initially accepted, of buying her old bar, though the more he thought about it, the less confident he was in actually taking over the whole business. At least not without a helping hand.

He watched the guy work, to learn a thing or two, just in case he ever came through to finish Beryl's deal. Thinking about her, Rodi didn't want to be seen by Barresi like this. She'd laugh to tears and mock him, saying how she was so sure he'd eventually become a stripper. Not that she considered it a shameful job, but Rodi boasted how he wouldn't ever care about the money, doing it only for shits and giggles. Oh well.

Rodi felt a pat on his back, and he twisted around to see Marzi, sporting the same old flashy sunglasses indoors.

"Do you have anything coming up tonight?"  
"Nah, I'm done."  
"Great. Let's do some paperwork."

Isandro slipped off the chair slowly. He walked up to the office door with Marzi, though the manager continued his route and walked past it.

The stripper never misses a chance to be snarky. "What, did you move the office outside for some fresh air?"  
"No. I keep my files at home. We're takin' a ride."

Rodi is led outside to a small parking lot, and at the press of a button, Marzi unlocks his car, a sleek power machine with a shimmery-yellow paint job. The two doors opened with another button, unveiling a lush interior, of a white-dyed, crystal decorated leather dashboard and seats, with sharp red accents on the borders. For Rodi, the crystals were a bit flashy. For Marzi, it was like the wet dream of a teenage boy, with his mind fixated on calendars with girls posing over convertibles like such. The amazement lingered as the two entered the vehicle, culminating with the intense roar of the engine.

Marzi was a show off, he deliberately ramped up the acceleration to hear that sweet sound. It put him into a state of ecstasy and self-absorbedness. Rodi could only assist from the sidelines to the scene, but he enjoyed the false sense of security a car like this could give someone. Security, in a social and economical perspective. In reality, the machine was a hell beast kept into a leash by a very irresponsible man, as he blazed it through the streets mindlessly. Rodi wasn't one to judge, he just went through a speeding accident, after all, though there's a difference between letting loose a motorbike and a 3000 pound chunk of metal that looked like a lingot on wheels. Traffic was low at that hour of the night, but Marzi still lacked patience with the red lights or stop signs. Lots of corners were cut, lots of turn signals were skipped. By the end of the ride, Rodi was sunk into the chair, with his fingers red from gripping onto the door's handle. The adrenaline he caught from the drive might’ve freaked him out, but it also gave him an unexpected craving for doing the same with his bike, which was still in service. A twisted smirk rose on his face and he snickered to himself, albeit strained, when the car finally stopped.

Marzi waited for the gates to open, and parked in front of his home's porch. The two exited the car, and Rodi was intrigued by the actual grandiose of his home. He expected a condo or an apartment in some high-priced neighbourhood, but this guy had an actual mansion at the outskirts of the city. Weird, but Rodi didn't complain. He wouldn't doubt it if it's a family heritage.

Walking in, he noticed the mansion was way too big for only one person. It felt empty, even with all the luxuriant items and dorian-style pillars scattered around. As you walked inside, straight ahead was an impressive glass door wall, which led to a veranda, and ultimately, the surprisingly simple garden, with only a mowed lawn and two chairs. A small outdoor pool sat in one corner, surrounded by potted miniature palm trees and ambient lights. The intricate sound system and tv screen he had looked untouched for weeks: the knobs and buttons gathered dust in their cracks. Though, the tile floor was spotless, reflecting the living room like crystal clear water. Marzi led the way for a disoriented Isandro, all the way to the dining room, another spacious, but seemingly empty room. A chandelier stood above a minimalistic round table, at which the manager took a seat, and invited Rodi to do so too.

Marzi took his glasses off. For the first time. He revealed narrow, off yellow eyes underneath his eyelids, surrounded by noticeable dark circles. However, they did not cease to fixate on Rodi with a particular fondness. The first sight of his true gaze made Rodi loosen up the tension in his shoulders, and let his arms drape over the backrest of his chair, as he sat sideways on it. Tiede lost focus of the main purpose of his invitation, as he looked at Rodi with admiration, with the corners of his thin lips upturned.

"So... where's the paper? The pens?"  
"Those? Right, I gotta grab some. Wait here."

Marzi came back shortly, with a flimsy file folder and a cheap pen.

"Let's fill this lil' bitch up. Do you have your ID on you?"  
"Nah."  
“Then you’ll have to answer some of these. It's gonna be some basic info questions, to have something in the records.”

Rodi didn't want to show too much. He wanted to not regret it later.

"Full name?"  
"That's sensitive info, isn't it?"  
"At least first name? You'll have to tell me sooner or later."  
"Once I trust you, maybe." Rodi drawled and honeyed his words.  
"Maybe you'll build the courage at the end. Your stage name's stayin' like that?"  
"Liberator? Yes, duh."  
Marzi snorted, but wrote the name anyway. While he was not pleased about it on a second thought, it might've been too late for Rodi to reconsider his name choice. It seemed clever, but it sounded dumb each time he heard it from another's mouth.  
"Birthday."  
"May 29th."  
"Mine's in November. Age?"  
"19."  
"Look at you! Young and free! I already feel old at 22."  
Really, the three year difference wasn't a reason to call him "young and free". Rodi couldn't figure the intentions of all of his unnecessary input, but it was good trivia.  
"Last Turf War date?"  
"Uhhhh..."  
"More than four weeks ago?"  
"Something like that."  
"Family contact deets? For emergencies."  
"...I was in my father's custody. Mom’s irrelevant by now."  
"So, which should I write?"  
Rodi groaned and rolled his head backwards, simply thinking about his incapable father left him frustrated. An understanding hum came from the other side of the table.  
"Let’s skip it then. Home address?"  
"No."  
"Ha! I’m just fuckin’ around with you.”

There were a few more mundane, unexciting questions, and Marzi saw Rodi get bored of it. He went through the papers one last time, and tapped them down straight.  
"That's it for now, I won't bother you for more."  
"Sweet."

It seemed pretty half-assed. Though, Marzi did mention it was only for a quick reference. The manager took the file folder and briefly left the room once more. Afterwards, he stood under the door frame and invited Rodi to come along with him.

"Since you made the effort of coming, I should treat you. Right? I'm a good host!"  
Rodi breathed a short laugh. "Yeah, sure, if you insist."  
He followed Marzi around the rooms and hallways.  
"You're not staying for half an hour and then leave. That'd be pointless, man. Also... a good chat with you is nice. You're a chatty one in the right mood. Ain't that right? I miss a good talk. You’ve seen my friends at the party, they’re all dumb as hell."

Tiede's monologue carried on until they reached the kitchen area. Rodi settled to lean on the counter, as Marzi fervently searched the cupboards. He took out two flute glasses and wiped them off with his t-shirt before going back on his search. This time, he was looking through the bottom drawers, and Rodi eyed a renowned champagne in a chic bottle, its slender neck being grabbed by Marzi's thin fingers. He placed the bottle down with a thud, shaking the counter, and popped the cork off, taking a loud whiff of the liquid.

"Now, that's some amazing shit. Look at it, what a baby. I keep it for special times." Marzi flaunted the bottle around, which piqued Rodi's curiosity, wishing to find out why that drink was so famed.  
"Whoa, am I that special? For that? You just met me, honey."  
"And that's why..." Marzi started pouring into the glasses. "I want to know you better."  
They picked up their drinks.  
"That's what most tell me." Rodi grinned behind the flute.  
"I can see why."  
The two clinked the glasses together.  
"A toast for hiring you!" the manager shouted the cheer, as if he were in a room full of guests.  
"Mhm, let's call it like that. It's a nice way to say it." He peeked with the corner of his eye at a microwave's digital clock. It was well past midnight.

* * *

 

 

/5/

 

Rodi picked up on Marzi's interest a while ago, but he was at this point making it painfully obvious. He couldn't quite read him properly, but he was always nice towards him, so he was getting less and less doubtful of him.  
He sipped from the glass, feeling a bubbly, fruity, but bitter sensation. It was okay. Much stronger than the usual. He expected something more from it than the less expensive variants he tried before. Maybe champagne was kinda overrated.

"I swear, once I saw you walk in, I knew you'd be amazing for Amygdala. You're something different. How did you come here?"  
"I was curious. Wanted to see how it is. I've been doing guest nights, so I've actually been looking around for a club to settle in."  
Tiede inched closer. "I'm a lucky man then."

Rodi puffed and rolled his eyes from the flattery, though it boosted his self-worth. This kind of assurance made him more comfortable, comfortable enough to pour in another glass.

"No, no, let me help you!" Marzi took the bottle and filled the glass up to the tip. Either by mistake or by choice. Rodi sipped the excess and watched the pale liquid twirl around with his slight wrist moves.

Then he remembered the conversation with Silviana. He brought up the subject indirectly.

"So, you made me dance with Dana on the second night."  
"Yeah."  
"Now, don't call me paranoid, I'm not, but was it with any hidden intentions?"  
"Not any bad ones. I like to see how good the performers are in a team, how they deal with unexpected stuff. People love that. It's double the fun for them."  
"And why Dana?"  
Marzi took a particularly longer mouthful of his glass.  
"She's my best girl, you know... I have... a lot of respect for her. Just like all of my employees! You and Dana are the only ones who know to climb a pole."  
"The others can't?"  
"They're new to it and they fuck up or it doesn't work out. But they strip well. Maybe better than you."  
"No way."  
"Yeah, you need to work on that!"  
"Ah. It was fine for me."  
"We'll see how the next few shows go. It's not too bad, don't sweat it."

There was a break while both drank and looked around.

"I opened Amygdala with one thing in mind: it has to be a perfect place... for the babes first, and then the customers rain in naturally. There's something for everyone, I like it mixed like that."  
"I guess the managers I met before were more detached."  
"That's why they're not as good as me. I'm all about quality, not quantity."  
By the looks of all his possessions, you could say otherwise.  
"What, why're you laughing?" Marzi noticed Rodi's scoff.  
"Nothing, really. I'm feeling good."  
Marzi's mustard eyes narrowed in a smirk.  
"Perfect. Enough of that now. Let's look into the past, tell me more." He had a tendency to switch subjects rapidly. His fingers laced under his chin.  
"Past? Who cares?"  
"I'd listen to anything you'd say. Even if it's boring as fuck! But you're interesting, tell me."  
"Well. I went out, met people, clubbing, stuff like that. It's like I'm feeling a new life begin with each weekend. Whenever you think you're living through something new, bam, you get revived again."  
"Yeah, I get you." What Marzi said was probably a lie. Rodi started to get cryptic, getting derailed into his never said before thoughts.  
"Maybe life goes too fast for me to see everything it can give. I don't mind, I already see a lot. Besides, I'm living through my senses, darlin'. It's not all seeing. I feel a different thing everyday, I'm on the look for a new sensation all the time."

At that rate, the first, verbose phase of intoxication kicked in.

"But, like, it sucks to not find exactly what you want. That special spark! As many times as I made a change, it never fit my expectations. I'd stay in my flat at noon and go nuts from feeling something missing, deep inside. I don't know what. I tried hooking up, but listen. You can fuck as many guys as you want, it's all fun and sweet, but they don't give a reason to be kept, they don't stick around. If they do, I kick them out, out of pride. And even if, let's say, I kept them around, they'd end up the same sooner or later."  
Marzi's incredibly pointy ears were slightly perked, his eyes attentively fixed on Rodi the whole confession.  
"Whatever. Mm. What did you do?" The younger inkling let him talk, before he said too much.  
"Hah, mostly the same. I knew I wanted to open up a business, I wasn't as stray. I got into gambling. Casinos, slots, all that fun. Lots to win! But I lost a lot too. I had a time when I placed high stake bets on every big Turf War match. Yeah, you're not supposed to do that. Everybody thought I was crazy, but look who's swimming in cash now!"  
"Would you ever go back to that?"  
When anything regarding money came up, Marzi rested a hand on his flimsy hip.  
"I still do bets, not as often with Amygdala under the belt."  
"Still a risk taker, huh. Love them."  
"You'd make a great lover."  
"I'm not a lover. I'm made to come and go."  
"Hey, like you said before, life goes too fast. It won't give you a chance to stay. Right?"  
Rodi paused. Then turned his head to give Marzi side eyes.  
"Who knows."  
"Be honest, I'm right."  
"I don't believe in destiny. Life is what I want to make."  
"So? What do you want to make of it?"  
Isandro flashed his fangs in a grin. "Give me ideas."

Marzi set his glass back on the counter and took the champagne bottle. He gave it to Rodi to hold.  
"Enjoy yourself! The fuck should you else do!"  
Rodi took the gesture as a challenge. He held the bottle neck firmly and downed a hearty load of the alcohol. He didn't often get the chance to have such a drink, he might as well had taken advantage out of it. Surprisingly, there wasn't much left in it to down, only a gulp. They didn't even realise how fast it emptied. Rodi slammed the bottle on the counter, in the same fashion as Marzi did, whilst wiping his lips with his wrist.

"Not bad!"  
Tiede pushed away the dishes behind Rodi. He went to face him and raised his smaller figure on top of the counter, to see him from the same eye level.  
"Want to pop another bottle?" Marzi ran his hands onto the other's thighs.  
Rodi softly nodded. His eyes were more half-shut than usual. Marzi took a small step away.  
"Actually, nah. Uh. Don't get your hands off me."  
"Make up your mind."  
"Mm, decisions are though."  
Rodi grabbed Marzi's wrists and put his hands back on their rightful place, letting them dance around.

His manager modeled the scene from beginning to end exactly to his own liking, and there wasn't much left to it to manipulate. The next steps were clear as day. It was only a matter of who would give in first. Looking at Marzi for too long and too close made Rodi burst into a fit of laughter. In this state, anything was amusing for him, to an excess. Marzi was washed over with desire and he took him by the cheeks, pulling him close for a kiss. Rodi gladly kissed back.

It turned out that their business affair would morph into a love affair with every second they went more down into their lips. It was like a make out session found in chick flicks, with wide open mouths and interlacing tongues and teeth, where curiosity led their fingers on unexplored regions. With both being somewhere between sober and half-drunk, it wasn't neat, but slightly sloppy and poorly executed. Nevertheless, it did its job, the two were absolutely lost in the moment. Marzi would lean and push in hard enough for him to tilt Rodi back on the cold wall, though there wasn't enough space for the two. Parting their mouths, they knew they had to switch the place, the counter wasn't comfortable enough. Marzi brought Rodi close, back with his feet on the floor, and guided him to one of the bedrooms, with hasty steps.

Once crashed onto the mattress, they return to the same ardour they had before, this time with Marzi sliding more and more on top of his newfound love, sinking him into the overly soft bed sheets. Rodi attempted to take Marzi's shirt off, but he gladly finished for him. He was nice enough to strip off completely, as the other did the same.  
Rodi murmured to himself, "here we go again", finding himself bare naked next to a new body. Pushed on his back by Marzi, they exchange an extra kiss, yet another one in which their tongues feathered briefly.

He considered he tasted his mouth enough for the time being, Marzi roamed downwards with his lips to discover the curves and surfaces Rodi hid before, lagging along his fingers on the same trail, which ended just before the knee. Dragging his palm between the hipbones and back up was a good turn on for Rodi, and for once he wished to be the one to watch, not to act. If Tiede started this mess, he had to prove himself for it, to impress Rodi enough for him to stay. But, as if Marzi read his thoughts, he lustfully licked his fingers for what was about to come. He worked two of his damp fingers into Rodi, bringing out a low groan from inside his chest.

Marzi turned to his ear and whispered.  
"Tell me, baby, what name should I moan?"  
"I pray to fuck you forget by the end of it."  
To his response, Marzi curled his fingers, making Rodi shut his eyes tight and twist beneath him with a light sigh.  
"Trust me."  
Rodi did give in after another finger slid inside. He then left a bite on Marzi shoulder. In a slightly strained, hushed voice, he unveiled his first name, since hearing his awful stage name would've ruined the whole moment. And it was too blissful already to let anything break the peace he found in his own arousal.

"Rodi. How about getting up on me?"  
"You'll be doing the work. I'm off duty."  
"Obviously."  
Marzi let him crawl on top of his lap, being a bit mesmerized by the beautiful sight in front of him. Rodi made sure his partner was hard and wet enough, with a lick and rub here and there, and then let Marzi position him before completely sliding in. Gasps escaped from both once they merged, and Rodi tried his best to relax and not get carried away. Though, thanks to the drinking session they had before, taking control of himself wasn't as easy to do. Marzi did soothe some of the tension away with caresses, starting at the small of his back and ending at his buttocks, on which his hands gripped and rocked his lover back and forth. Marzi settled a rhythm in both his arms and his hips, and Rodi was left to enjoy the flow and roll his head to the side in pleasure.

Isandro could feel each of Marzi's twitches, how his movements turned sharper and more forceful every time he pushed his hips forward, reaching any sweet spots that drove Rodi on the edge. Without knowing, he did mimic the swaying at one point, pulling tightly on the bed sheets. Even gasping for air, neither would've let themselves be too loud.  
"Moan for me, Rodi."  
He's not one to follow every order. All he did was open his eyes halfway through, to see Marzi's pale chest glowing from working a sweat.  
Stubborn about his wishes, Marzi demanded once more, in a more raspy tone.  
"Be as slutty as you want, just moan for me."

As to encourage him, he wrapped his fingers around Rodi's erection, dragging a thumb along the tip, spreading what've already leaked out him. That finally got a reaction out of him, a breathy whimper. It wasn't enough. Combining it all with a deep thrust brought a real moan to light, to Marzi's delight. Isandro's vulnerability was like fuel for his lusting, judging by how he started pleasing the other with no restraints. Their timings might've misaligned, but Marzi made sure to put the other back on track with a few strokes of his length, dizzying his senses in the greatest way. Rodi's legs were getting weaker and shakier, so he draped his upper body onto Marzi's, and the sudden contact between fiery skin and cold sweat made the two shudder.  
With what he had left of his composure, Rodi leaned onto his forearms and slung his tongue greedily on the older inkling's jawline, only for him to shortly after muffle his pleasure-ridden scream underneath it, when Marzi fucked him even harder. As lovely as it was, he didn't know for how long he'd last if that went on for a little more. His pointy nails raked any bit of skin he could've put his hands on, making Marzi hiss through his clenched fangs. In the heat of the moment, he rocked Rodi deeper in him, albeit too harshly.

"Fuckin' hell!"

Rodi's sudden indignation might've amused Marzi briefly, but both were way too fucked out of their minds to focus on anything other than their own gratification. Marzi could tell by the hitched breathing how close Rodi was to finishing. Inhaling sharply and taking hold of his lover tightly, Marzi gave all he could to make both himself and Rodi let out a last moan.

The pomegranate inkling felt waves of pleasure shooting upwards his spine, when the other tensed up inside him. Next thing he knew, there were sparks flying through his vision, his back curved in a perfect arch, and Marzi held his trembling body even closer to his and sprung upright, just to truly sense how Rodi melted in his arms. There was a second of pressuring silence, before the climax. Heads rolled back, fingers digging into their backs, it was intense. The fever was running through every part of their being. Marzi, panting all spent and satisfied, closely watched Rodi follow up, who was biting on his swollen bottom lip with his pearly fangs, making a mess on both of their abdomens. Rodi opened wide both of his eyes and mouth afterwards, in awe of what Marzi managed to make out of him.

If it wasn't the first time Rodi truly felt being someone's, he wouldn't have known how to call it. It was a new sensation, for sure. Marzi seeped desire since the first meeting, a strong, convincing longing. All the quick encounters he had before couldn't add up to this night. Seeing their intimate state through glazed eyes, he was certain of the magnetism Marzi had upon him, how good he made him feel.  
The two hung together onto the dopamine high for a little more, before contently separating.

Both turned and grinned for themselves, fixing their hair and pushing the orgasm's disorientation to the side of their minds. Though, any little move Rodi made was shaky as hell, to his surprise. He definitely needed a few extra minutes to stay still and take in what just happened.  
The manager wiped his chest and threw away any used wrappers or paper towels. There was nothing special or remarkable to his figure, but the rose-tinted glasses just started settling on Rodi’s mind, now fixating on how his shoulderplates folded the skin on itself with every little move. That aside, Marzi laid to his side, resting his flat cheek on a pillow.

"I'll admit, it was nice." Rodi glued his eyes to the ceiling.  
"Babe, you made it perfect. But..."  
Marzi took the other's hand in his, in a mushy attempt of affection.  
"It's bittersweet to know I've fallen for a darling who never hangs around for more."  
"Yeah, I could leave at dawn and act like nothing happened. Easy."  
Rodi playfully weaved a few fingers in between Marzi's, before continuing.  
"Staying, though. It doesn't come easy."  
"It takes some guts, huh?"  
"And trust. If I put my trust in you, how would I know I did the right thing?"  
"Is there any right or wrong? No one can judge that."  
"...Right. But it's not about morality."  
"It's about you. I know." Marzi got up to pull an ashtray closer on the nightstand.  
"It's more of a matter that I don't want to get fucked over by my feelings."  
"I should be the one scared of that, I'm hoping for a damn stripper to stay with me."

The older inkling cracked open a new pack of cigarettes. He hovered the pack next to Rodi, and he mindlessly helped himself. He struggled with the lighter, furrowing his eyebrows in annoyance, but he managed to make it work.

He wasn't even as keen on smoking, especially indoors. Though, just to be constantly doing something, he puffed through the cigarette, and found out how poor its filter was. He stretched over Marzi to reach the ashtray.

"Don't expect me to sit around happy as long as you only see me as a sex worker."  
"No! Of course not! You're a lot more!"  
"So you're implying I wouldn't be enough if I were only that?"  
Marzi noisily puffed out a thick cloud of smoke.  
"Baby, forget playing devil's advocate. I just want you, whatever you'd be." He began running the pad of his thumb over Rodi's leg.  
"What will you even accomplish through me, anyway? I'm-"  
Tiede defied anything he was about to say and shushed him down, with a childish tickle trailing to the inside of his thighs.  
"You seek explanations for love, and it won't work. You can't explain it."

Rodi was still skeptical about Marzi's ability to be a casanova, but what he just said left him to wonder. He heard a lot of empty words before, but the manager had put pragmatism in them. Rodi winced. His cigar was overly nasty with its unneffective filter, he put it off halfway through.

"You'll only get the best from me. All you want, Rodi. I'll give anything."

Ah, well, screw it. He might as well had given him a chance. And give himself a chance to get closer to someone.

"Wait and see in the morning."

Marzi patiently and peacefully did, knowing that he'd still find Rodi sprawled on his sheets, looking serene in his sleep. When too much light flooded through the curtains, he got up to look for his clothes, which might've disturbed Rodi from his dozing. First things the red inkling did after waking up were to drowsily pat a hand around to reach his phone, find out that he woke at 2 pm, and check the heap of missed notifications with his nose buried in between pillows, not willing to get out of the bed's warmth. The other later entered the bedroom, all changed up and ready to go out of the door. Unlike him, Marzi was busy even in the afternoon.

"I'm going out. Sorry sugar. I can't leave you here alone."  
"Can you drop me off somewhere on your way?" He swung his bared legs back and forth, while laying his chin on a satin pillow.  
"I can even drive up to your door."  
"Nah, just leave me anywhere."

From the golden convertible, cruising along the sunny seafront with a grimey song playing on the radio, Rodi kept his sight on the lively street. It was rather cinematic to see the inhabitants of Inkopolis go on with their day, while a subwoofer unfittingly growled in the backside of the car. Some were rushing to work, tourists gathered up at a coffee shop, a youthful group was carrying weapons and ink tanks in black sleeves on their shoulders, heading towards the subway for Inkopolis Tower, and some other teenagers strolled towards the beach, with bikinis and surfboards. Shame that Rodi didn't get to see the light side of the city due to his habit to oversleep. If he did wake at a more reasonable hour, he didn't pay as much attention to the daylight buzz, finding it less interesting, a time for mundane activities like groceries, but for now it was refreshing for his vision.

Marzi made a right turn on a street that Rodi recognized. He remembered that he had something to do on it.  
"Hey, stop here if you can." He gestured with his hands towards the sidewalk. "Thanks for the drive."  
"Can't wait to see you tonight!" Marzi left behind his wheels dust and smoke, in a tasteless manner to turn some heads around.

Rodi walked up to a huge garage door, vandalized to death by the local punks with colourful graffiti. He entered the door next to it, being welcomed by the smell of oil and steel. He hoped nobody noticed he was still in the work attire, covered only by a coat reaching mid-thigh. He left his more casual outfit back at the club.

"How's my bike, boys?"

He did get some weird looks for the knee socks from the five mechanics in there. He was approached by the sixth one, someone who was actually in the process of checking his fuchsia motorbike, parked in one corner of the garage.

"Good news and bad news!" The fish-finned individual always had a peppy vibe, no matter of high and lows. They spun a spanner on the tip of their finger.  
"You know it always starts with the bad ones."  
"Mate, lemme ask somethin'. Did ya get this second hand?"  
"I did. Why?"  
"Your lil' bike has some issues from its last owner. Oil pipes, engine, brakes, all kinda knackered. You also like to push it hard, don't ya?"  
"Honestly, who wouldn't? How bad's it?"  
"Fixable! But, ya kno'... Costs over costs."  
"Oh, I can pay that now, no issues with that." Rodi already envisioned the bottomless suitcase in Marzi's office. "Just make my baby roaring and running again."  
"Checked! We alread' finished with the dents and scratches. Try comin' back in two weeks, 'ight?"  
"Cheers, keep me updated."

He gave up on his optimistic vibe once he was back outside. He sincerely hoped for it to be ready for the road once again. Relying on busses or on taxis for his frequent rides, jumping from one point to another, was really getting on his nerves.

He wasted his time at home on cheap television dramas. Only in the night Rodi got truly productive. His presence at the club became significant, the crew greeted him whenever he passed by the hallways. And after another well-received show, he returned with bills hanging out of his thigh-highs, stashing them into his backpack, not even bothering to count the earnings.

Afterwards, he went outside for a quick smoke, and let his cheeks loose from all the smiles he forced. To his surprise, Dana was also there, getting a quiet moment to talk to the phone. The two kept a moderate distance, and once she finished talking, Rodi approached her, asking for a lighter. They both lit up their cigars. Inevitably, customers would interfere with their break time. Some would be plain disgusting and stare at them, going back in when the performers looked back menacingly, others had the nerve to even get close. The bodyguard was thankfully keeping an eye on them, shooing off the more intruding ones. However, the atmosphere was still queasy.

"I hate them." Dana blurted bitterly, while looking away.  
"Them being who?"

The sound of breaking glass rose close to them. The culprit, someone who just exited the club and spat his anger on the bottle, was left to walk past the performers, a time in which both were dead silent, tense and braced for anything.

Dana continued after the man went far enough. "Them. That kind of people. They'd kiss your ass in the club, but they'd smash your head outside with no afterthoughts."  
"Yeah. I noticed." Rodi looked back at the broken glass.  
"We don't get enough respect for this. We're society's dirt, even though shit like shooting kids on a fake battlefield is praised. Nobody bats an eye if something happens to us. There aren't spawn points in the streets."  
She sighed away the smoke of her slender cigar.  
"And they wouldn't want to live without us." And she then stepped on the filter, stained black from her lipstick, putting the finished cigar off.  
Rodi absorbed her revolt and begun talking.  
"Sex and guns, that's what's on everyone's mind. Look how they go hand in hand. They teach kids how to shoot, and then they freak out when they turn into horny teenagers. And then everyone complains about it, as if they're not a part of it." He laughed snidely out of the blue. "These bitches think they're real smart, but we're the smart ones, we know how the system goes."

  
"...For how long you've been doing this?"  
"A few weeks? Two? I dunno."  
"Don’t flaunt like that, smartpants. Some clients may be dumb, but they're the worst. Savage. Get used to the feeling. It's not like casually meeting someone at the bar. Look behind when you go home. They can stalk you, find out about you, they're desperate."

The more Rodi learned, the less excited he was about the lifestyle he looked up to. It would be too stressful on the long run, too damaging for his liberty, to always live in a tinge of fear, if what Dana said was right. That only if he were alone in the scheme. He now had started to wrap Marzi around his little finger, a person of influence over others, a safety net for his profession. If anything went wrong, Marzi looked like the kind of guy to shield Rodi. He saw where Dana came from, though. Anyone who couldn't get a backup of any kind would be left in uncomfortable situations.

"Um. Do me a favour." Dana resumed.  
"Depends on what you want." He chimed in melodically.  
Dana threw a cheeky punch on Rodi's shoulder. "You look like you're up for anything, you'll do it anyway."  
"Come on, you made me curious."  
"It's kinda awkward and sudden. I need a model for tomorrow, I do marketing for a cosmetics company, and the guy who had to model just called in sick. It won't be much, only a demo, you have to sit through an hour or so while I talk about the foundation I cake on your face. I'll give you the samples at the end."  
"You could say you're in a... pinch?"  
"Oh, fuck off. You're in or not?"  
"Yeah, girl."

Dana settled on an hour and place to meet at. Rodi wasn't sure what made him take the errand up, but he couldn't see a reason why not.


	2. Chapter 2

THE LAST FIVE DAYS

* * *

 

 

/6/

 

He should've been more attentive when Dana mentioned sitting for a long time in a chair while she was boasting the new, advanced, enchanted, revamped, magical formulas of the blushes, eyeshadows and powders range in a presentation with too many slides on an old projector. The conference room was filled with expert beauticians and students alike, all neat in appearance. Dana was also bearing a simple but chic outfit, matched by a delicate face makeover, in contrast to the dark, dominating look she held at Amygdala. On her chest, there was a nametag, calling her "Miss C. Dobrovich", next to the company's logo.

Rodi was so apathetic to the whole talk, he watched the illuminated dust particles float around, remembering how his apartment also needed a serious dusting from one corner to another. Trying to be subtle, Dana kicked his chair with her platforms for him to sit upright and not make a bad impression to the beauticians.

Thankfully, the presentation ended before he slumped completely.  
"We've seen how these products work in theory, how about seeing them in practice?"  
She grabbed a handful of samples in her clawy hands, and pushed a table on wheels closer, with an assortment of brushes and sponges on it.

"What's the first thing you notice on our model's face? Probably the tiredness, the dark circles, the general dullness of the skin tone, the liveliness it lost?"  
He didn't sign up for a roasting.  
"First things first, we're cleansing and priming the face, as we always do..."  
Dana took off the very thin layer of foundation Rodi forgot to wash off after-show.  
"Let's bring those missed hours of sleep back with a dash of our easy-to-use concealer... Don't look down, idiot." She obviously whispered the last part.  
From there on, Rodi's face was a canvas for her, dragging creams and brushes alternatively on his skin. He tried his best not to sneeze, since she was working so fast. The particles were flying all around, explaining why everything was coated in makeup in Amygdala's changing room.

"Check this out. Even matching colours for this kind of capricious skin tone proves to be easy with this palette. Now, eye masks, for the inklingkind, always prove to be hard to work on. Eyeshadow just won't stick or show right, unless you pay hundreds on some high-end pigments. That's history now!"  
And she proceeded to prove her point. An intense mauve tint was spread above his eyes, which gradually shifted into a lighter, pinkish shade. She was a master of multitasking, getting the fake lashes ready while she talked and worked her brush.  
"Libby, thank god you're on the bigger eyelid side, I have so much room to blend all of this."  
"Libby?" He started snorting.  
It's true, she didn't know how to call him other than Liberator.  
"Don't talk, I don't want to mess the lips now."  
A quick slick of lipstick finished the look. Rodi made kissy sounds, amusing the attendees. Dana turned to the side, to let everyone see the results.

By the end of it all, his face felt a bit stiff. Though, the crowd applauded Dana's craftsmanship, so she did her job of convincing people. She handed a pocket mirror to Rodi, and he was pretty impressed too. The eyeshadow wasn't his style, but he appreciated how well it was executed.

Dana began talking after the demonstration with some acquaintances, keeping a friendly smile and tone all along, and Rodi left to wash out the make up in the restroom. He could've kept wearing it, though it was more appropriate for an evening outing. Besides, he now found an excuse to ask Dana to prep him before a show, when presentation mattered the most.

"All done?" Dana waited for him outside.  
"I thought I'd be the one waiting."  
"Not really. I kept my chat quick, I feel like going for a tiny snack, aren't you hungry?"  
"Now that you mentioned it..." Rodi always forgot some aspects of basic self-care, like eating on time. He also left Marzi’s home on an empty stomach.  
"If you have any place in mind, tell me."  
"Surprise me?"  
Dana showed a brief grin.

The two strolled down one of Inkopolis' commercial avenues, a place for high fashion and premium cuisine. The passersby were from all corners of society, from all branches of evolved aquatic beings, from students to millionaires, the most remarkable one being an actor, surrounded by cameramen and fans. Rodi and Dana didn't pay much attention to the hype. The woman went straight towards a tiny corner shop, a local bakery infused in the smell of fresh bread and vanilla. Rodi eagerly followed after. But, once there, the variety of the menu left him very undecided. Dana noticed his struggle in picking something, so she just ordered two of the same thing she wanted. Rodi thanked her, smiling like a child, and checked what was in the paper bag.

"That's not any ordinary pancake. I swear, it's the fluffiest, sweetest thing on this shit earth. It brings me so much joy! Look, it has a cherry jam filling!" Dana was so excited over something so small, her eyes lit up while she tore the pancake in half, showing Rodi its wonders.

He took a small bite and, indeed, it was heavenly. No wonder why Dana turned so lively. Rodi thought overly sweet things were nasty, but this changed his whole perspective. As a child, he only bought the lowest quality bag of gummies if he could, hence the skepticism around sweets. It was as if Dana enlightened him, through such a simple thing... but such a great pancake.

She started walking again.  
"This little bakery is my favourite place, it's for the real guilty pleasures, not the crap at Amygdala."  
"That's so nice, like, whenever you ask someone what's their favourite place, they don't say "a bakery"." Rodi rambled with his mouth full.  
“Is it that much off the hook?”  
“Nah… I didn't think it'd fit you.”  
"Boy, you haven't seen me enough!"

Dana picked up the pace, making him do a few skips to catch up.

"Where do you like to go, then?"  
"I dunno." His mind jumped to Beryl's bar, though he didn't feel like explaining the whole story revolving around it. "Wherever the buzz is at, I have to be there."

To reach the bus stop, the two had to pass through one of the city center's parks, a green retreat from the blocks of cement found at every step. They kept a steadier step along the pathway.

"A finger in every pie, huh?"  
"Pretty much!" Rodi responded brightly.  
"Don't you want to pick only one?"  
"Talk for yourself, you're not far away from me, with the makeup deal and dancing and-"  
“I’d pick one if I could.”  
“Which?”  
“Neither.”  
“That’s not picking.”  
“Yes it is. As much as I’d love to do this all of my life, I want to try something new, move on. This job, it has an expiration date, I don’t want to hit it.”  
“If that's so... There’s nothing keeping you from it.”

She sighed, losing her happier figure. Dana continued in a lower voice.

“I'm using the marketing job mostly as a decoy, it can't sustain me on its own, that's why I'm keeping Amygdala. But after I find something better, I’m bailing out and giving Tiede the finger.”  
“Can I ask-”  
“No.”  
“Alrighty.”

Rodi was curious on Dana's side of Marzi, as she was the one who knew him for the longest. Alas, he wouldn’t find out, but it probably would've been biased, from all the spite she held on him.

They exited the park, reaching the noisy street. Rodi saw the station to his right, Dana continued walking left. She turned around, noticing Rodi staying in one spot.

“Ah, thanks for today. You really helped me.”  
“Where’re my samples?” He sprawled a shit-eating grin on his face, at which Dana couldn’t help but laugh.  
“You beggar! I did promise it, though. I’ll bring them tonight.”  
“Cool! See ya at work.”

And they went their ways.

 

By that point, the day was a rinse-and-repeat of the past ones. Wait for the night, make money, fake love, ooze sex appeal, talk dirty, sell right. No taboos, no fear of getting judged, the Liberator made sure to spread the ideology.

He had a certain affinity for the more reserved clients, ones too shy to head for the rails or to buy a drink for the performers. He always went up to them, started the conversations and made them feel charmed and wanted. At the same time, he took advantage of their cluelessness, getting amused by the way they fumbled with their words or how their hands trembled slightly as they held the payment forward. He nurtured with soft words and dizzied with raunchy gestures at the same time, leaving an impression on the first timers.

Meanwhile, the other customers mostly turned out to be headsores.

“Do you like being a stripper?”  
“Why do you think I keep doing it?”  
“It must be hard to get a significant other like this, though.”  
“I have enough of them.”  
“And is your sex life still good?”  
“Better than ever.”  
“Oh, damn! Tell me in detail!”  
“Get a private dance and maybe you’ll see.”  
“But, are there any fantasies you…”  
“For this conversation to turn productive.”  
“...Your ass is nice.”  
“Thanks.”

And he got up. What a lame ass guy. The bartender was trying his best to hide his snorting, and Rodi was pinching the bridge of his nose, amazed by how shockingly dim some of them were. Getting intrusive never got anyone too far with the performers.

Though, later on, before his leave, he was pleasantly surprised by Tiede, sending him meaningful gazes through his sunglasses from under the crew door’s frame. Rodi slyly smiled back, threw his backpack over his shoulder and joined his manager on the way back home.

Marzi’s home.

Where another flurry of kisses and embraces waited for them. They trailed their steps together, keeping a strong hold onto each other, not getting enough of the way their senses felt tested on the other. Undressing no longer meant choreography, it meant impulse. Two whole bodies were at their disposition, to be touched, tasted and moved by their heart’s desires.

He let himself melt once more in his arms.

* * *

 

 

/7/

 

Dana stopped in front of the new poster for the week, an advert for Amygdala's exclusive performances, with Liberator's name headlining the rest of the team. She ripped it down.

"What the hell was that for?" Rodi was curious on the reasons why Dana acted so unjust with him all of the sudden. Marzi made them perform together again, but their dance that night was poor, there was deliberately no synergy from Dana's part, and the tension drove them to delay their solo dances.  
"Just because you're Tiede's pet doesn't mean you have to be the cover girl of Amygdala. Fuck all, you've been in here for a week and you're Marzi's new favourite! He's milking the hell out of you and completely ignores us! Me! Silviana! The others! What's up with you two?"  
Rodi had to end the trail of this conversation, as it took an uncomfortable turn.  
"I'm not Tiede's pet. I just got lucky and did a good job. I don't know whatever bullshit you have with him, it doesn't concern me."  
Dana placed her tall figure in front of the Liberator, not letting him leave the backstage.  
"I saw you leaving with him yesterday after the shift ended."  
"...He drove me home."  
"Wow! Marzi was nice enough to pick you up? For three days straight? And you even let him know where you live?! I'm not dumb, for fuck's sake! I see all! I know what moves around!"  
Dana's hair pincers were opening and closing out of anger, generating a clicking noise. Rodi's frustration was also peaking, clenching his fists to avoid a temper tantrum.  
"You idiot, he's clearly head over heels for you! Does that seem fair for us?"  
"Is it my fault? Am I to be blamed for Marzi's stupid crush over me?! Huh?!" His voice turned more and more cracking as his rambling went on.  
"Yes! Yes, you're making a huge mistake! You're a coward! For not refusing him anything!"

Dana stormed off, with her pincers still rapidly clapping. That didn't stop Rodi from shouting at her.

"Mind your fucking business! Suck that envy up."

And it got silent, as quiet as the backstage background buzz can get on a busy night. Isandro wanted to read between the lines of her angry wailing, but he felt his lip quiver. She said something that hit him somewhere wrong. Not the coward part, he already knew that. But the way Marzi might've profited from him, it shouldn't be surprising, though it made Rodi feel naive. Pasting his name of every poster, after his quick rise in fame, might've been solely for Amygdala's success, and not for his appreciation. Surely, Marzi showed feelings for him. There was an odd trust between the two, but now that he thought over about it, he should've been more careful about the relationship that crystallized between them. It was wrong from his co-workers' point of view to make such romantic advances to your own manager, and signs of this happening started to leak. It could've turned into a drama that made the workplace unbearable.

Heart and mind were in conflict once again, as it always was for Rodi. And as always, he stepped away from it. He didn't feel like going back on stage after the exchange with Dana, as he initially planned. He casually walked though the tables, over the bar, looking with empty eyes around. He greeted the bartender and waited for a target to walk by. A male approached Rodi, and asked him for his name. He replied with his stage name, as usual. The man sat next to him. He was maybe 5-6 years older than Rodi by the looks, a messy-haired anemone businessman in a wrinkled shirt and tie. He offered to buy Rodi a drink, and the performer opted for a very light one. Isandro intended to be lucid by the end of the night, as he strategically lured the man.

"What do you do? You dance? Right, my bad, you just went up there. You're very pretty. I work as a analyst. My marriage is in shambles. To be honest, blah blah... They call me a beast in the sheets, haha! I'm on the point of getting fired. I wish the secretary would suck my dick."

Rodi had to sit and listen, nicely nod and flirt through the shit this guy's mouth spewed. At times it was very funny for him to wonder how strangers confessed any weird and questionable things to other strangers with no setbacks. But he was hypocritical. He was unknowingly a victim of this habit too, though nobody wiser would've been there to tell him.

"So… how much do you charge?"

Bingo. Rodi hooked it. He'd rather go for a classy lap dance with any customer. Anything following after was prohibited, besides the fact that he got tired of fucking nobodies all day. Before stripping, it was common for him to opt for one night stands, and this habit turned incredibly stale. It was a relief to know that he didn't have to go all the way through with anyone, and still get a dime out of it.

After getting his payment, Rodi got up from the bar stool and brought a hand forward for the other to hold. He guided the man through the crowded nightclub, towards the more secluded lounge area in the back. There were three makeshift rooms behind opaque screens, reserved for special moments like this. He checked the first room, to see if it's occupied, by peeking an eye through the slightly opened screen.

But, through the weak blacklight, there was a chilling split-second sight. Three individuals: two strangers and, surprise, Dana, were gathered around a coffee table, atop of it standing bags over bags of powders and pills. Next to them were cardboard boxes, one of them cut open to reveal sealed syringes. The group was bunched up over them, talking in low voices, enveloping the tiny space in a hazy atmosphere with their smoke.

Rodi didn't want anything to do with that. He pushed the screen shut, feeling his pulse accelerate from the idea of being noticed by the group for prying. He took the customer by the arm strongly, shoving him into the other room, in a fit of panic. The guy nearly stumbled over the coffee table, confused about the sudden outburst of the Liberator. Once the two isolated themselves behind the black screen, Rodi leaned his back on it, looked around the identical room, and took a moment to control his breathing. He then saw the customer, visibly concerned.

"Oh no. Sorry. Sorry about that... Don't worry! It doesn't matter! Relax. I'm gonna... make you reach new heights, baby."

The guy was still confused as fuck, but at least he shifted on the loveseat a bit more comfortably, thanks to a very lame attempt at pillow talk. Isandro pushed the table somewhere it wasn't in the way.

"Sit back. Look me in the eyes." Rodi seeped a hushed, sweet tone through his commands.  
The man did as he said. He watched the stripteaser bend before his eyes, climb on top of him and strip away from neck to toe, feeling all of his being drag onto him. For the Liberator, it didn’t even matter who was in front of him. It might as well had been the pole he rubbed on all the time. Same thing, without the acrobatics.  
For the other, the dance was a sensorial mix of silkiness and warmth, which brought excitement out of him, but the scene was suddenly interrupted by a ringtone. Rudeness aside, the stranger had to leave early. The good part was that Rodi kept the full payment. He appreciated the other's generosity, or forgetfulness.

However, the client didn't help much with his anxious state. As soon as he left, Rodi went back to a finicky state, unable to tone it down anymore. He really didn't want to exit the isolated room, in fear of not bumping into Dana again. Sooner or later, he'd have to settle things straight with her and turn back to the amiable relation they just formed, though she was sitting a few meters away, separated by a plyboard wall covered in satin and foam, doing god knows what with presumably drug dealers. Rodi wished to have seen her face better, to read her mood, but peeking in for longer wouldn't have been wise. The lack of information drove him mad, he wanted to know, just like Dana, every little thing that moved around, to connect her frustrated words to a bigger truth.

He pulled his phone out of his knee socks, thrown over the table, and sat in the chair. He sent Marzi a message, asking to let him stay one more night over at his mansion. He needed a body close to his, one he felt something for.

* * *

 

 

/8/

 

Rodi's hand ran around the uncovered skin without a certain destination. The couple was having a moment in bed in the colder than usual dawn hours. The heat and the passion from the intimate session they had dissolved by then. Rodi was hooked onto Marzi's side, resting his head over his shoulder, wondering over the quiet atmosphere. Marzi, strangely enough, wasn't saying a word, preferring to blankly stare at the window, grimacing and contemplative.

"Marzi." Rodi broke the ice.  
"Mm." Tiede didn't even turn to him.  
And he didn't know how to go on. There wasn't anything wrong with a quiet, cuddly time, but the only one who still showed some tenderness in his actions was Rodi. Marzi was too tensed up to react to his nuzzles, to his lips pressed down on any part they could latch on, and having the efforts go by ignored left Rodi saddened. Finally taking his eyes off from nothingness, to raise himself on the pillows, Marzi noticed the visible pout on the younger inkling's face with the corner of his thin eyes.  
"Anything wrong?" He didn't look Rodi in the face.  
"Shit, I'd ask the same."

Marzi just took him from his spot and let him lay over his chest, patting his back to lull him to silence. It worked, to his relief. Marzi wasn't always sure on how to handle him and his unpredictable moods: uninterested and distracted one second, and the other, stuck to his hip and loving. Neither did Rodi know how he got the drive to act so amorous. It was the first time for both to see an affair take an affectionate route, and while Rodi was more than glad to discover a softer part of romance, Marzi stayed troubled over something unknown, for a good amount of time.

And then he jumped in an instant, startling the half-asleep lover, quickly bringing a hand to his nose. Rodi was staring at him, completely puzzled by the sudden reaction, only to soon see his blood run under his palm, in its bright yellow hue.

Stumbling over his feet and nearly slipping, Rodi rushed for a towel, though he brought a roll of toilet paper back, which got unravelled in the way, in his unsettled hands. But Marzi didn’t even bother to act up. Moreover, he was looking more annoyed than anything by the bleeding, wiping it off in one move, taking a strong sniff afterwards.

“Fuck. Knew it.” He then turned to Rodi, standing worried besides him.  
“Is that god damn normal?”  
“It happens, sometimes.”  
Isandro let his shoulders lower, since Marzi acted like his sporadic nosebleed wasn’t a big deal.  
“But… uh. Is it, like, a weird habit?”  
The manager squinted, furrowing his tiny eyebrows even more.  
“Yea, I do it for fun. What the fuck, Rodi?”

Being a smartass didn’t work out with Isandro. For him, it demonstrated there wasn’t any point in carrying the morning out like this. Rodi got up and left the room, direct and sure, if Marzi was so good to take care of himself on his own. Marzi let a low grunt and took his head in his hands, digging the fingers into his temples. He checked his nose for a last time, before following up on Rodi’s trail.

 

The other rested his palms on the sink, taking another long look in the mirror. Rodi would have to later cover up any love bites left around, he couldn’t go working like that. Looking grumpy, he grabbed a random toothbrush, and as he squeezed the toothpaste, he saw Tiede in the reflection coming from behind. He wrapped his hands all over the other’s torso.

“Did you get mad at me?”  
“Obviously.” He spoke through the bubbly foam in his mouth.  
“Yesterday was rough in the office.”

Rodi was so not interested in whatever he had to whine about.

“I had 3 auditions. Complete shit. Okay, maybe I could consider one of them... Then I had to scream at the rest of the crew. Last night was piss awful on stage. Really, it’s only you who’s keeping the club alive. I might kick someone out.”  
“Don’t do it.”  
“I’ll decide that.”

Rodi spat down the drain, and spun to face the manager, not breaking the hold.

“You’re not kicking anyone out just ‘cause I’m better. It’s not like we’re overfilled.”  
“Right… right.”

Neither was Marzi interested in his lover’s lecturing. He tried to bring back Rodi’s tenderness, with a simple kiss on the lips, wanting to keep that flame they set on going. Rodi took it as a cheap apology. Accepted, nevertheless. He couldn’t say no to a little more love. He struggled for so long to find it, and now it was readily available under his fingertips.

Of course he deserved the spotlight at Amygdala. He was the best of them all, it was only the jealousy spreading in between the crew that wanted to prove otherwise. Marzi let him become the headliner not only motivated by love, but also convinced by his skills. Was it fair? Not really, but what was even fair, when you could make a week’s worth of rent in an hour, with a tinge of effort?

Fast-forward to another night, another shift. Rodi was already considering it mundane. He and Marzi were the first ones to arrive at Amygdala. No matter how many times he’d seen it empty, it always felt weird to walk around the club with no one around.

He headed straight for the changing room. It took a few tries to hit the light switch once inside, but he wished he didn't find it.

Sprawled on the floor laid Dana.  
Motionless and cold.

The sinister image was made worse by the syringes spread around the room, in places where her feather boas should've been found.

Rodi was overwhelmed by a wave of despair. Dana's dead. He shouldn't have ignored the scene he saw last night. He didn't stop this from happening. His mind was suddenly loaded on questions and panic. Did she overdose? Was it because Rodi gained lead over her position in the nightclub? Was she intentionally killed? He didn't know what to make of it. All he did was fall to his knees and get teary-eyed. He let out a short, frightened scream, which alerted the other employees.

Loud, rushed footsteps. The first one to enter after Rodi was Marzi, who froze in place at the sight. Silviana came after, gasping loudly, rushing over Dana's limp body, calling out her name hopelessly. She shook her, but there was no response.

Rodi latched onto Tiede's legs and pulled on them, as tears and whimpers rolled out heavily, feeling guilt wash over his whole consciousness. Marzi started shivering.

It was tragic. Unexpected. It was a revelation that brought the idealized world they formed back to reality, where even the strongest psyches failed at one point or another.

Whilst the shock dispersed between them, the manager was left in a dilemma. When asked by Silviana on calling the police, he reacted extremely negative, flailing hands and all, impulsive and violent out of the sudden.

"They can't find out! I don't have legal papers for Amygdala! They'll snoop around! N-... No cop enters here!"

His paranoia made Rodi paranoid in turn. Not legal? For what all the paperwork then? He looked at the corpse again in fear. The issue wasn't the formalities at the moment. It was a dead person, overdosed on whatever she pumped into her blood.

"Help me, 'rator. Pick her up. Get her in my car."

Pick her up?! In this lousy state he was, weakened and emotionally destroyed by the sight of death, he could barely pick himself up.

"Do something!!" Marzi's voice tremored, all raspy and rough, tinged of desperation. He figured out Rodi was completely unfunctional.

He lunged towards the corpse, flipping it over, letting Dana's lifeless face bask for a last time in the poor light. Her arms' veins were disgustingly puffed up, and a needle still hung from them. Marzi pulled her body over his shoulder, carrying her outside the the changing room.

"Take my house keys! Come on!"

Isandro struggled to get up. He was helped by Silviana, on which he leaned before gaining the strength back in his spine. His face meanwhile turned from a contorted, weepy figure to a canvas blank one. There was no colour in his once vividly pomegranate eyes, it all flushed outside in the white of the eyes, and leaked over the tear-stained cheeks. He unstuck himself from Silviana and began walking. Initially wobbly, his step turned mechanical, uncanny. He headed straight to Tiede's office, rummaged through the cluttered desk in the dark, and went outside the nightclub.

The manager's car was pulled over in the front, somehow fitting in the narrow street with millimetric precision. Marzi already dealt with the dirty work, Dana was hidden from sight. Rodi handed over the mansion's keys and took the passenger seat. In the whole process, his expression was stiff and constant, alike his moves. As the car started moving, the static buzz in his mind was replaced by the motor's rumble. Rodi dipped himself deeper in the sports car chair, feeling how his tearful state was coming back.

"And Dana... what will happen to her?" As if things weren’t clear already. He hoped in vain for a way to undo this.  
"...I'll give her to someone to handle. There's nothing else I can do. She's gone."  
Marzi's hands shook on the steering wheel.

She didn't deserve such an end. To be treated as a disposable object, disappear off other's minds over a night, leave no trace behind. And it could've been prevented. So easily.

This wasn't the experience Rodi expected. Behind all the glitz and gold and lust and partying, truth was that you were left either too distracted, or lucid enough to watch your companions get consumed, rotten slowly by sex, alcohol, and in the worst case, drugs, while praying not to fall in the same fate. A wrong move in this industry lead to consequences more serious than in their brushed off appearance. And getting out of this artificial mess, with clean hands and an erased history wasn't easy.

"...Did you know her real name?"  
All his questions were dumb and pointless. But Rodi still felt a burning need to know.  
"Cassandra. Cassandra Dobrosomething. Dobrovich?"

He didn't want to end up like that. People struggling to remember his name, his real name, what he really was under a stage-made cover.

The rest of the ride was silent and pressuring. Nothing more than a blur. Marzi hit the brakes very hard once in front of his house, skidding the car for a bit. He immediately got out, pulled his phone from his back pocket and dialed.

"Stoplights, man. It's a yellow light, not red. Very, very yellow. Like deep shit. Yeah. Alright. In the back of my trunk, I'll leave it open. Uh huh." Beep.

Rodi stared vacantly with his seatbelt still on, the codified speech going from one ear to another. The melting feeling in his body faded once more to make way for the rigid, cold one. Marzi patted his shoulder, getting no reaction from him, and told him to go inside. In his unhuman, automatic state, Rodi exited the car a minute after and followed his manager's orders.

It was even emptier than before, though nothing changed. And strangely enough, the mansion gave a more suffocating feeling than a open-space one. It could've been from the excessively pure white and gold walls, or how the middle of the living room was void of any kitschy decor. That void wasn't an inviting one, it felt like going there would've left you crushed, compressed by the lack of air, as irrational as it sounds.

Rodi still sat under the door frame. He couldn't step in, it felt like any step he'd make would be in the wrong way. He stayed in the same place for longer than normal, but his internal clock felt like it both froze and went by way too quickly. He did eventually move. Likewise of a machine, his path was linear, with 90 degrees turns, with the set destination being the guests' bedroom upstairs.

He stopped in front of the bed, but he didn't sit down. He waited for the next command to show up in his mind. Then suddenly, his insides disintegrated again, making him stick his palms on the bed frame to prevent his collapse. His back was sharply angled, face was downturned, and the inky blood in his body was rushing to his head. Another wail escaped his sore throat, and, as if an unknown force exploded inside him, he went berserk. The dangerous oscillation between mental numbness and emotional overflow turned him into a volatile beast, that tore and broke any expensive fabric or object he could've put his hands on. He ripped curtains, smashed photo frames hung on walls, and flung the drawers open and out of their wooden cases. The thrashing was quick and devastating, short lived and intense. The room looked after like a storm casualty, though Rodi consumed any little energy he still had in him. The act dissolved into another gradual breakdown into tears, as he snapped back and noticed the damage around.

He had to stop these violent, contrasting swings, before it got worse. Splatters of his ink were around his feet, as a dangerous reminder of the risky case where he can lose hold of his solid shape, from being so distressed. His knees failed once more. Thankfully, Marzi returned from outside, lured by the noise, only to be shocked at what he saw.

"The fuck did you do!"

Rodi looked at him like a guilty puppy, one that grossly sobbed and streamed heavy tears. And he finally pronounced his first words in the last hour, choked over his crying.

"She died because of me!"

He cupped his swollen face into his hands, muffling his whimpering, shamefully hiding away his state of weakness. Marzi went up to him, crouched down and pulled those hands away, to look at Rodi in the eyes.

"And what makes you think that?"  
"I saw- yesterday. I saw her. With... I don't know! I didn't do anything! I had to!"  
"She died because of herself and nothing more."

Rodi looked incredibly wide-eyed, expecting a further explanation.

"She committed suicide, obviously! How are you any bit responsible for it? You're not."

It wasn't the whole story. These things don't happen without a reason behind them.

"I'm a part of it!"  
"Stop being delusional. It happened, that's all there is to it. Calm the fuck down. I don't want more people killing themselves."

His insensitivity was uncalled for. Though, as if he realized how cold-blooded he acted, he took Rodi in his arms. The embrace was not genuine, but forced and lacking in warmth, though Rodi was none the wiser. He held his breath to stop his trembling and closed his eyes, holding onto Marzi's back.

Who else could’ve kept Rodi in check? The only meaningful presence in his life was Marzi.

He let him stay overnight again.

* * *

 

 

/9/

 

Rodi is a very light sleeper, though the events from yesterday stressed him out so much, he slept a whole night without waking up for the first time. That wasn't necessarily a good thing. It's worse to be trapped in a freakish nightmare than to be able to freely wake up from it. He could confirm. It was well past noon, and he woke up still feeling horrible, with the whole package of migraines, swollen eyes and tense muscles. He'd rather be in a hangover than like this.

He turned his head in both directions. Marzi wasn't around. He couldn't even remember if they slept in the same bed or not. Nevertheless, he got up and looked for him. Marzi was sitting at the round dining table, with his head resting in his palm, and with a cigar losely held in between his index and middle fingers. His other hand's thumb danced on his phone's screen. Rodi dragged a chair and sat opposite of him. Marzi didn't take his sight off the screen. The younger inkling cleared his throat.

"What're you doing?" Words were very raspy and strained.  
"Texting."  
Pause.

"Who?"  
"The crew, to not skip this day."  
"What the fuck? Why? Don't you-"  
"If I close today, shit will get suspicious. Yesterday was too hairy, I want to avoid any suspicions."  
"That isn't right. It's all fucked up, Marzi. Give it a break... Give them a break."  
"Rodi, you can stay home. I won't force you to work. I love you too much to stress you."  
There's more of a bitter aftertaste than a sweet one after Marzi's claim.  
"No. Nobody will come today at Amygdala. Maybe out of fucking respect for Dana! What did you even do to her?"  
"Hush, I'm only calling people who don't know about what happened yesterday. Life goes on and, as sad as it is, you can't change it. I told you to stop being delusional, didn't I?"  
Rodi dug his nails into his palms. Marzi went on.  
"Imagine if the word spread. People are nosy, I don't want to mess up. Don't do this to me."

Marzi put his phone down and lightly dragged his hand over Rodi's cheek. They exchanged serious looks. Marzi's was more shallow, Rodi's was demanding and intense, even through his general exhaustion. He wanted answers, not his verbal teetering. Marzi blinked away and got up.

"I'm going to check on the club. Stay in bed, get rest, get yourself sorted out."

Yeah, right. As soon as Marzi locked the doors, Rodi went through a rummage. His restless soul put together all the details he knew about Dana, head to head. He knew from Silviana that Marzi subtracted her from the managerial position she once held. She also said how someone caught in a argument with him was never seen after around Amygdala. It's no coincidence. His intuition was burning, through the fire consumed him more than it did anything productive, as he couldn't find anything relating to his theory.

There was nothing relevant in the bookshelves or around the mansion. Looking through the cheap file folder where Marzi kept info on everyone working for him, Rodi only found entries for the current workers, no previous ones, most of them extremely brief, with lots of gaps. He skimmed Dana's entry. She did give her home address and more sensitive info, surprisingly, but then Rodi realised that the two had known each other before Amygdala, and created it together. Even with their collaboration, Marzi was still pretty much unaffected by her passing, which was worrisome on its own.

Isandro was sadly too weakened to keep searching. The defeating feeling of not finding any leads forced him to drag himself back in bed. He needed a distraction while trying to fall back asleep, so he brought the laptop with him. He clicked the browser, and the first tab to open was the surveillance camera status page. Rodi raised an eyebrow. He accessed one of the front door cameras, and found the current recording, along with past ones. A wave of curiosity ran through his body, and exited through his finger, as he selected last night's recording. It even captured sound! Posh. And handy, since it was too dark, and only silhouettes could be distinguished on the video.

The inkling followed the recording carefully. Marzi's car pulled in front, with a skid, and the manager called someone. And then Rodi entered the house. From there on, Rodi could find out what happened while he had a temper tantrum. At first, it's uneventful, Marzi waited while sitting on the car's hood. Another car pulled up. Someone came out from it and directly approached Marzi. He opened the trunk and, presumably, passed Dana to the male. Rodi was so repulsed by the image, but what followed was more disgusting.

"...Fucking bitch. She's ruining my plans from hell!"  
"How did she get like this?" The unknown person had a really deep tone.  
"Typical! She messed with the wrong guy. I told her to stay out of my shit and I made her want to erase her ass off this earth. I had receipts, I knew people, she was already fucked in the mind, you kno', but this whore really wanted to complicate my life. With her big mouth. Damn. She couldn't've sat her ass home."

A clunk followed as she fell into the next guy's trunk.

"Hahah! You really think they'd kill themselves at home?"  
"Well, it worked last time with another one like her. Just take it. Get rid of it before others find out it was on my floor." Marzi handed over his cash.

Rodi closed the lid off the laptop. His breathing was accelerated from the sheer anger he felt. No way he'd sit back in bed. The destructive instinct from yesterday reemerged, and he jolted up, went straight to Tiede's records, thumping his steps, and took a lighter. He burned all the papers down. Marzi didn't deserve any information, any sort of advantage over the people unwary of the horrible things he could do. His teeth were grinding as the puzzle pieces fit together. However, watching the papers turn to ashes had a rather therapeutic effect. Rodi unclenched his jaw, pushed the ashes under the bookshelf with his foot and took a step back.

He was disappointed, betrayed. All he wanted to do was to leave the fuck out of that house and erase any memories made over the past week. Though, simply leaving wouldn't be enough. On second thought, doing too much of a scene would be dangerous with this kind of man. He's walking on a thin line between not causing justice or getting himself in trouble from his ambition for payback. Thinking on the best way out of this crap was too much. Everything was too much. It wasn't a great revelation, on top of the other painful ones. It trapped his entire being into a cage, one neatly crafted by Marzi. His so-called romance was worth next to nothing now, but Rodi regretted believing the slightest in it. He got himself restricted by a thoughtless commitment to Marzi.

He couldn't leave the mansion, the door was locked, and calling a cab would've been risky if Marzi caught him going out of a window. He needed a moment of silence, since coming up with a plan while enraged wasn't effective. He had to focus less on him being stuck, and more on how to redeem himself for all of this.

Evidence. Evidence was the key. If it managed to stir him up that much, it would do the same for others. Ingenuity lit him up. He checked the rooms for any loose flash drive Marzi might've had, he found one in a backpack, which looked forgotten for years. Popping it back into the laptop, Rodi found it empty, unused for long, and he dropped the camera's footage onto it.

While he was still at it, he could've snooped around a little more. The mail account was a good start. Marzi was too much of an idiot to log out, keeping all of his correspondence exposed. The inbox was filled with garbage, viagra and camgirls spam adverts, though the real spice laid into the sent folder. Besides the fact that Marzi wrote his mails like an illiterate, with no grasp on written communication, he sent at 11 pm, two nights ago, a blank message to over 50 addresses, attaching a folder full of photos and documents. All relating to Dana. Just like the recipients.  
It laid before his eyes: a detailed report of her hidden, compromising profession, sent to most family members and the beauticians she used to do business with. Imagining how Marzi spread a disgusting smile on his face while he told Dana what he did, she must've felt completely helpless, overwhelmed by shame. Rodi wished the same, terrible death on Marzi.

His heartbeat ramped up at the sound of a car approaching, bringing along the bassy rumble of the speakers. Rodi smashed the keyboard, hoping it would make the file transfer faster. He closely watched the progress bar, which seemed to go slower the closer it was to the end, and at the exact time it finished, he pulled the stick out in a rush, tossing it away in one of his shoes. The front door just closed. Rodi hid between the sheets, acting like he fell asleep while watching a movie. The manager crashed his keys on a table, and headed upstairs. Marzi checked on Rodi and let him be. His childhood schemes, old and golden, still worked.

Even after he left, Isandro kept his position. With his eyes closed, he recapped his findings, weaving the scenes and bits together, coming up with the closest representation he could get to the truth. What followed was to leave the information to someone capable enough, without risking to get hunted down by Tiede for it. That would’ve been for another day, his efforts to stay awake failed, drifting back into unconsciousness from the exhaustion.

Hours later, he woke up more disoriented than ever, still alone in the queen-sized bed, with the sharp sunset light flowing from the window towards the sheets, leaving hard shadows. Rodi set his feet on the floor, feeling them rather numb. He did unsure steps down the stairs, supporting himself on the rails, and reached the living room. Marzi was there, bent over the table. He made a sudden move, throwing his back on the couch with a thud, making Rodi hide behind the wall, peeking an eye out. After releasing a guttural noise from his throat, Marzi stretched and got up. The pupil got as small as a grain. Rodi braced to run, though it was unnecessary, as the other exited towards the garden.

He tiptoed to the low table. From what he learned in high school, during those mandatory talks nobody paid attention to, cocaine looked pretty much like what was on that table. He didn’t react, he’d already seen so much shit from Marzi.  
But still, Rodi jumped when the manager appeared next to him, holding a crystal ashtray in his hand.

“Did my baby wake up?”  
“Well, I’m not sleepwalking.”

Rodi squinted his eyes downwards.

“You really think you’d do a better job with this?”  
Marzi crashed on the couch again. “I don’t give a fuck.”  
“Easier to take a hit than to face the mess around you, eh?”  
He cackled. “What can I say! Bitch got me good.”  
“...You’re a gone motherfucker.”

Marzi was too absorbed looking for his cigarette papers. Rodi crinkled his nose at his pathetic figure. He went back upstairs, leaving him alone.

  
Marzi was kept awake and buzzed by the drugs, Rodi stayed awake over thinking for the next day.

* * *

 

 

/10/

 

"I think I feel better now. Take me to work tonight.

Rodi mixed his sugar and milk in the coffee mug, hoping that the proposal would go through Tiede. And him, being so unsuspecting from his infatuation, did any little wish his sweetheart wanted, especially now, to take his mind off the traumatic events. Rodi wasn't afraid to admit that he profited off him. If you gave him an opportunity, he wouldn't shy away from it. The overdue bills that pushed him to work in the nightclub got covered by Marzi, and everything he made off the past week's nights was kept for those special times he wanted to treat himself. His lover bought him a bunch of little pleasures, that lost their charm anyway after saying "thank you, baby", getting tossed somewhere to be taken home and be forgotten.

The afternoon went by quickly, as he did his stage makeover at home, since he couldn’t afford wasting time at the club. The final hours were dripping by, and he was prepared for yet another run.

Up until they arrived at Amygdala, Marzi was as obedient as he could get, finally driving more like a considerate, sane person. So it took Rodi by surprise when he acted all demanding with him, suddenly pulling him by the arm from the hallway into his office, without saying a word.

He fell back on the chair, rolling its wheels from the impact. Marzi roughly pulled his smaller figure up his lap. He had a wicked smile, his mustard eyes were bare and glazed, and they disclosed his lack of sleep even more than usual. Despite that, he had enough strength and guts to hold Rodi down, while he tried to get off him.

“Baby, don’t run off.”  
“What do you want.” Rodi growled, ceasing his flailing.  
“I miss your sugar, where did it go? Tell me sweet words. You do love me, don’t you?”

The pomegranate inkling looked over to his left. A white powdery line got spread and blown on the desk, from their stir up. He stared back at Marzi, with his eyebrows furrowed, ready to throw his feelings bluntly.

“I hate you.”  
The manager blew air out of his irritated nose, looking smugly through side-eyes. “...Hate me? There’s a thin line between love and hate.”  
Rodi never heard something as stupid as that. It fired him up. He reached for Marzi’s gold chain, twisting it up his neck. “That doesn’t make any fucking sense!”  
“Should I get you back home? You look like in a fever, ba-”  
“Don’t fuck around, Marzi. You’re high off your mind and I know it.”  
“And?”  
“And?! You’re the one with lost marbles, not me! Maybe if the drugs didn’t go up your brain, we could’ve had something!”  
“We still have it. Look.”

His lips reached for Rodi's neck, parting slightly before the other pulled away.

"No, don't show me."  
"See? You already know it, you smart bitch! Now say you love me."

He had enough of this whiny, annoying manbaby. Rodi was all kinds of pissed from it. He wanted to beat his past self for falling for him, pushing him with his palm while he was reaching for another kiss. However, salvation comes in unlikely forms.  
Through the wall speaker, a voice called the Liberator towards the curtains. Show time. Marzi's grip loosened, and Rodi slid off him, making his way for the door.

“Come back after.” The manager lazily stretched on the chair.

He didn’t respond, but slammed the door shut.

Even if he was saved by the call, Rodi didn’t go up stage, he went up to the DJ to arrange someone else on the spot. Instead, he snaked aimlessly around the crowd, looking for the right, trustworthy person. He eyed Silviana, in her lacy attire, sitting at a table with some clients. She kept her head low, as Marzi didn’t want for her to come to work that evening. Rodi waited for her to finish, leaning on a wall cross-armed, replaying the last minutes in his mind. Whatever Tiede understood through his coke-filled brain, Rodi did his job of telling him it’s over.

As soon as Silviana got up and carefully made way to the backstage, getting ready to leave early, he went straight up to her, grabbing her attention with a gentle tap on the back.

"Wait, come at the bar with me." Rodi pleaded quickly.  
"I'm not drinking now."  
"No, not for drinks! I need a talk with you. It's important."  
Silviana understood the implications of his request. Since the area around the bar was not as noisy, leaving enough room for discussions, but also buried in the louder music and noises of the club, it was the ideal place for a gossip or a confession.

Before he took his usual seat, Rodi leaned over the counter, and signaled the bartender with a move of his index finger to come close, whispering something to which the two nodded. Afterwards, he centered Silviana in his vision, taking a breath in before talking.

“So, how’re you feeling?”  
“I don’t know… Kinda detached.”  
“Did the word spread?”  
“Probably. At least, people really feel her missing. I didn’t tell them, yet.”  
"I'm leaving Amygdala today."  
"For real?"  
"Yeah, but that's not all of it."  
"I get why you want to go, though. We're both scared after what happened to Dana."  
"No, darling, that's not all. Get ready, this will be a doozy."  
"Go on."  
"Who do you think was behind Dana's death?"  
"It was suicide, wasn't it?"  
"But who drove her to it?"  
Silviana's face turned grim.  
"I did think about... that. But, this goof, he doesn't look like..."  
"Right, right. Listen to me, I need to tell you from start to finish. Grip on tight, don't whoop me for some of it."

He confessed everything. It was a scary catharsis, but it was for the best. Rodi went on with all he's been through the past ten days, with most of the details. His arrival at Amygdala, how he and Marzi sparked a hidden affair, the day spent with Dana, and her intuition lighting up into a backlash, loud enough to be Marzi's final straw. He wanted Dana to disappear without a sign, by her own hand, before she spoke the truth aloud. The files he owned on every member, the blackmail, his panic over his plan getting fashionably screwed, leaving him to no choice but to hire someone to dispose the body. And what Rodi has seen was only the tip, probably. Who knew what other horrible thoughts did Marzi induce to the performer, bringing herself to death. Speculation told him she wasn't the first one to fall to the same fate.

Silviana listened through it all, concentrated and wide-eyed. The bartender also sat through the speech, as thoughtful as the other, keeping an eye out for the manager, as Rodi requested. All her doubts were erased, she wanted to revolt on the things Isandro and Tiede did, but, after all, there wouldn’t be any use in more arguing. There was enough guilt already in his tone, and he took responsibility for taking part in this disaster.

His words, though, rose a dormant ambition inside the two. For them, it was fuel for an uprising, a warning for what could’ve followed, as the substances and dizzying sense of power made Marzi think he can do anything with his subordinates.

Rodi sighed, staring downwards, watching how he started to swing his legs, as the stool's footrest was too low for him.  
"So, yeah. Now you know. I'm not coming around again. I can't see myself carrying this on. Before, though..."  
He reached the inside of the sock and dangled the flash drive in front of their faces.  
"Take this, show it to everyone, it's full of Marzi's dirt."

Silviana's eyes illuminated at the object, a simple thing that held so much power, which would've given the whole crew a well deserved explanation. Rodi continued, in a very motivating and guiding tone, leaving his parting wish.

"Organise yourselves, carry out this night as usual, don't make Marzi suspect a thing. Before leaving, take whatever you can, and vanish. He won't be able to do anything against you. Don't come again, watch his ass turn scared because his employees vanished. Go to a better club, change stage names, keep doing what you've started. You're amazing at it, and need more appreciation than this asshole ever had." He raised his vision to Silviana, shooting off a smile tinged in bittersweetness.  
"Honey! This job's too great to be lived in fear!"

Puffing her nose in amusement, she went to grab not the flash drive, but Rodi's own stretched hand, with both of hers. She took a moment to look him in the eyes before starting to talk.

"You lived up to your name. Liberator."

Silviana's words struck him. Never did he think his mock name, a shameless condensation of his own desires, besides the obvious innuendo, would've reached to others in its real, original meaning.

And at that point, he couldn’t come up with any witty comebacks, or ironic remarks, to respond to the phrase that hit home too fast.

He nodded. Started shaking. Dug his other hand’s nails on the chair. Took his bottom lip by his fangs. Anything but let himself become too emotional over how this all ended.

Silviana's eyes turned watery, while repressing the pressure in her chest. She smiled so brightly, so optimistically. The grip she had on Rodi's hand got tighter, a warm squeeze out of thankfulness. That genuine touch said a lot about her gratitude. And did a lot. Rodi took her in a heartfelt hug, hiding his nose through the indigo locks.  
Silviana felt him sob on her.

"Hey. Who knows... Maybe... Maybe we'll all have a little drink again... A fun talk at the bar. Like we do. I’ll tell you how it went. Take care until then."

She cheered up the miniature emotional roller coaster in front of her with the unsure proposal, along with some strong pats on his back. He unglued himself from the coworker, seeming a bit more hopeful. He looked at the bartender, and then back at her, seeing them determined to keep the plan running.

A stone got off of his chest. It was a reviving feeling, he graciously unbound himself from this ordeal.

He shook off the sappiness, and put his feet back on the marbled floor, becoming aflame once more, in both posture and gaze.

"You two. And with everyone else. Fuck his shit up. Real good." Rodi made his wishes clear for a last time.  
"Definitely."

He made one step away. He had a last chance to look back, but he didn't. He couldn't stop now, it was as if the curtain for the stage just rolled, and the catwalk appeared in front of him. Rodi left Amygdala in the same way he entered. Cocky, sultry, smirking to himself, hips swinging from side to side, fingers doing slick little contours of his most adored bits. He turned heads, stepped in time with the beat, did twirls along the clients, breathed in the perfume and tobacco combination in the air, pulling his head back, while strutting to his liking around.

In the midst of the creation of a fresh, blank state, it was only him, and all of the world at his own will. He spontaneously took people in for quick kisses, spinning them on their feet, leaving them behind and dazzled, not necessarily for the money, but for the irresistible need to spread the bliss that took him over. This was the Liberator's true peak, not a name scribbled on a poster made up by Tiede. It didn't mean a thing for him now.

He left through the front door, for the first and last time.

There was a constant, melodious hum outside, of distant music, passing cars and rattling leaves. The narrow street wasn't as crammed anymore and the city's neons diffused in a colourful haze.

With no one around to watch, Rodi spread his arms out and wide, closing his eyes and embracing the familiar night chill. It was like returning to an old lover, one that loved back unconditionally and always left you to wonder. His fascination for the midnight hours had always been his driving force, and no one could take away the happiness he found in its charming feeling of freedom.

Only the clacking of his high heels followed back home. And, for once, Rodi was so content about it.

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

EPILOGUE

* * *

 

 

/?/

 

It’s been so long. It is unrecognizable. He sits in front of the place, still straddling the fuchsia motorbike, keeping the motor running. The brick walls are cracked, the golden doors are chipped and ripped apart, and where the sign used to stay, there is a rusted metal frame. The smell of mould even escaped the basement. Rodi looks at the abandoned building, getting washed over by relief. They did it.

And delicate hands, that perfectly match his, wrap around his waist. Green eyes look for the pomegranate ones.  
“...This was it?”  
Rodi takes his lover’s hands in his own.  
“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if youve had the patience to go through all of this you have my respect my dude
> 
> thanks for reading!!!!  
> for the new people, you can find me on twitter/tumblr @ramenbowie :^)


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